The Imperfectly Perfect Fairytale
by TheWriterInAllOfUs
Summary: Molly is a new student at Appledore Academy, waiting for Prince Charming. Sherlock is not Prince Charming, but may be the one for whom Molly is waiting. Teen!lock Sherlolly. Sort of AU-ish, and a little cracky, with a lot of fluff.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a Teen!lock Sherlolly story. I'm completely unbetaed. Also, this is mostly a feel good fluff fic designed to give you happy feels. Rated T for teen drinking in later chapters, and talk of shagging and snogging, though nothing is explicit, because I'm not comfortable writing smut, nor do I really enjoy reading it. The ships present are Sherlolly, Jary, and Mystrade, just because.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. All of it belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Teen!lock Sherlolly

CHAPTER 1

Molly Hooper, though she was in highschool, still believed in fairy tales. She was seventeen, and though she'd had a boyfriend once for a few weeks, she'd never been kissed. She was certain that her Prince Charming would come to sweep her off her feet. That dream, at least in part, was shattered the moment she stepped into Appledore Academy.

Sherlock Holmes and his best friend, John Watson, stepped off the train, luggage in tow.

"Another year of my parents' money being wasted," Sherlock grumbled.

John jokingly punched him in the arm. "Oh, come on, Sherlock. It won't be that bad."

Sherlock scoffed. "That's what you think. Headmaster Magnussen has it in for me. Actually, I think Professor Hudson is the only prof who actually likes me. And she's the only professor I actually like."

"The home ec teacher?"

"She lets me keep some of my experiments in her fridge."

John rolled his eyes, and then spotted a shock of silver hair. "Greg," John called, waving the boy over.

"John! Sherlock!" The boy ran over, and grabbed the two in a hug. When he pulled away, a knowing look passed between Sherlock and Greg. Just at the end of last year, Sherlock had confronted Greg about his closeted homosexuality.

"Greg, you're gay aren't you," Sherlock had said, when the two were studying late in the library.

Greg had shushed him. "I don't want the whole world knowing."

"Greg, I don't have a problem with it. I just want to know why you're hiding it."

The silver haired boy had cleared his throat. "I...I don't think my father will approve. It might...tarnish the family name, you know?"

Sherlock had rolled his eyes. "Well, it's your life. You should be able to make your own decisions, but if you insist, mum's the word. I promise."

The look now shared between the two boys was an acknowledgement that Sherlock's promise was still intact.

"Thank God I found you," Greg moaned. "My baby cousin Phillip's girlfriend has reached high school. I've never seen two kids swap so much spit."

Phillip Anderson was a sophomore this year, and his girlfriend Sally Donovan was now a freshman. As if on command from Greg's declaration, the two walked around the corner, the epitome of sickening young love.

"Get a room," John called out mockingly.

"John, please don't encourage them," Sherlock pleaded. "There's already too much stupid in the room."

John and Greg for once agreed with Sherlock's caustic observation, and the trio marched off in the direction of the Academy.

Molly stood amongst a swarm of her new peers, trying to gain her bearings. She had been placed in the East Wing dormitories, with someone named M. Morstan as her roommate. The only problem was, Molly had no clue where she was, with no clue as to how to find the East Wing dormitories.

Suddenly, a short girl, with a pretty, round face and cropped blonde hair, tapped her on the shoulder. "Are you lost, sweetie?"

Molly nodded. The girl gave her a warm smile. "My name's Mary. Mary Morstan. Yours?"

The brunette grinned. "Molly Hooper, and I do believe I am your roommate."

Mary grinned. "Great! Welcome to Appledore! Come on! Off to East Wing!"

Sherlock found himself in East Wing, Baker Hall, Room 221, rooming of course with John. Seniors at Appledore got the "perk" of being in the only co-ed wing of the building.

As he laid on his bed, he heard a knock on the door.

"I'll get it," john said. He opened the door to meet Mary and Molly.

John pecked Mary on the lips. The blonde giggled, and turned to her new friend and roommate. "Molly, this is my boyfriend, John, and that," she pointed, indicating the other occupant of Room 221, "is Sherlock."

John invited the girls in, and he sat on his bed with Mary. Molly took a seat in the swivel chair by the desk.

"So," John asked. "Where are you from, Molly?"

"I'm from…"

"...Northamptonshire." Sherlock finished.

Molly was flabbergasted. She'd never met this boy. "How...how did you know?"

Sherlock opened his eyes and stood before Molly, scanning her up and down. "Your accent alone proves you're from Northamptonshire. You are the eldest of two, and take your role of eldest very seriously. Your...sister is still in primary school. You have no pets, due to your mother's allergy, but you wish you could have a cat. You also plan to study pathology in university. You've never had a relationship that lasted longer than five weeks, nor have you ever been kissed."

Molly stared at him. "You...how did…"

"I observe." He laid back down.

Molly sat speechless. "Don't worry," John assured her. "He does that to everyone."

Molly nodded. Just then, there was another knock at the door. Mary stood and opened it. Molly watched as a silver-haired boy munching on a doughnut sauntered in. He smirked as he took notice of Molly's gaze.

"Sherlock, get to you then, love? Don't worry. He's like that to everyone. Rest assured, the other guys here at Appledore at least have some manners."

Molly nodded soberly. The silver-haired boy extended his hand. "Greg Lestrade."

The brunette took it. "Molly Hooper."

"Welcome to Appledore."

Molly couldn't sleep that night. She'd always felt self-conscious, but she'd never felt as exposed as when Sherlock had laid her entire life bare.

Despite his asinine behavior, Molly was intrigued by the raven-haired boy in Room 221. Sherlock was the opposite of boyfriend material, yet he held a mysterious charm. Molly supposed his charm laid in his intelligence. His eyes, like swirling oceans of blue, green, and gold, had burned their gaze into her soul.

That night, Molly's dreams were haunted by the anti-Prince Charming, who had somehow stolen her heart.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This is Chapter 2. This is my first published fic, and I'm unbetaed and unBritpicked. I hope you're all enjoying this story.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights and such belong to the BBC, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

* * *

CHAPTER 2

The next day, classes began. Molly pulled on a short-sleeved brown blouse, a brown and green plaid skirt, and her only form of fashion rebellion: her hot pink Converse.

Mary had on jean shorts, a pretty blue tank top, and gladiator sandals.

"Come on, Molly! We're going to be late!"

"For a first period study hall?"

Mary chuckled. "I want as much time as possible to gossip!"

Molly sighed and grabbed her bag.

* * *

Molly and Mary were the only two "normal' people in this study hall, according to the chipper blonde. "Everyone else in this room is somehow freakish."

Molly bit her lip. "My, uh...my last...well the last guy I dated was a freak. He had a crazy plan for world domination and he ended up putting a gun in his mouth."

"Oh my God, Molly," Mary exclaimed. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."  
"It's okay," Molly replied, waving Mary's comment off. "We all can't be Sherlock."

Poking Molly's arm, Mary whispered, "So, uh, any guys here catch your fancy? I know Greg's single."

Molly felt her cheeks flush. "Greg seems nice, but, um…"

Mary's jaw dropped and her eyes were like saucers. "Oh. My. God. No way!" The blonde squealed.

Molly flinched at the sound, and asked, "No way what?"

Mary lowered her voice. "You like Sherlock, don't you?"

Molly blushed even redder. "No! I mean...I don't…"

"Yes you so do! Admit it!" Finally, Molly nodded in defeat.

Mary squealed in delight. "This is so exciting! I'm going to fling you two together!"

Molly bit her lip. "It's really not worth it. I doubt Sherlock would even give me a second thought."

Mary shook her head. "I think he would. There's only one other person he's deduced like that, without making some snarky, embarrassing comment. That's John, and those two are thicker than thieves."

"Mary, he practically told the whole room that I'm a virgin, with little to no relationship experience. He is right. I've never even been kissed."

Mary wrapped an arm around the petite brunette's shoulders. "Sherlock has no room to talk. Sure, he had his thing with this girl, Irene, but I'm certain they only just reached first base, and I know for a fact that Sherlock's a virgin."

Just then, the bell rang.

* * *

Molly entered her Anatomy class. The prof, a young woman in her mid-thirties beamed when she entered. "You must be the new student, Molly Hooper."

Molly nodded. "I am."

"Have a seat." She indicated an empty desk.

Molly sat down, glad she sat alone. She didn't want to have to answer anyone's inane questions.

The class had just begun when the door opened. Molly didn't bother to look up.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes," the prof said. "Late. Take your seat by Miss Hooper."

Upon hearing her name, Molly lifted her head. "Oh great," Molly thought. Her partner was Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes.

"Afternoon, Molly." She merely nodded her greeting, not wanting to meet his gorgeous eyes and turn into a stuttering mess.

Sherlock smirked, already knowing the effect he had on Molly. "Are you aware we can leave campus for lunch?"  
"Yes," she replied, still not looking up.

"Do you have plans?"

Molly sighed, and finally turned to face Sherlock. "No. I have no transportation, so I plan to stay on campus."

Sherlock hummed. Molly was just about to return to her notes, when Sherlock touched her arm. "Would you like to join me?"

Molly turned to face Sherlock once more. "Excuse me?"

"Do you want to join me for lunch? We have an hour and a half."

Molly quirked an eyebrow. "I suppose I wouldn't mind joining you, but how do you figure an hour and a half?"

Sherlock smirked. "We have thirty minutes for lunch, and we both have an hour long study hall. How quickly can you eat?"

"I don't eat a lot for lunch. I brought some scones."

"Good. I'm certain you've never had a lunch break like this before."

* * *

Molly was worried by the mischievous glint in Sherlock's eyes. What did he mean? Where were they going?

She met Sherlock at the back doors of the cafeteria.

"Alright, Sherlock, where are we going," Molly asked, munching on a scone.

He smiled. "Ever seen a crime scene?"

She shook her head. Sherlock pulled out his phone, and dialed a number. "Greg? Yeah. We're on our way."

Sherlock beckoned for her to follow him, and Molly walked around the corner, surprised to see Sherlock holding out a cherry red motorbike helmet to her.

"You have a motorbike," Molly asked warily.

Sherlock grinned, and he put the helmet on Molly's head. Then he walked over to a glossy black motorbike. He pulled on his own black helmet. "Come on, Miss Hooper."

Molly warily climbed on behind Sherlock, and gingerly placed her hands on his sides.

"Hang on." Sherlock revved the engine, and Molly squealed, wrapping her arms around his waist in a vice tight grip.

* * *

Sherlock grinned at the feel of Molly's arms encircling his waist. Ever since his escapades with Irene, he'd basically ignored every member of the female sex. Molly was the first female in two years in whom he'd even been minutely interested. She was intelligent, and thought she was shy and mousy, she wasn't superficial or transparent. She was intriguing.

* * *

"Molly, we're here," Sherlock announced through the intercom in the helmets.

He hopped off the bike, and helped Molly off.

"Why exactly are we at a crime scene," Molly asked.

"Greg's dad is a detective inspector. Greg plans to follow in his footsteps. I have flawless deductive skills, and plan to be a consulting detective. You plan to study pathology. Usually, John accompanies me, but he has Advanced Calculus. I thought you might enjoy being my assistant."

Molly's eyes widened. "You mean I'll actually get to see a real corpse?"

Sherlock nodded.

Molly gasped in delight, and wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug. Sherlock stiffened at the unexpected touch, and awkwardly patted Molly's hair.

"Sherlock! Molly!" Greg beckoned his friends over.

"Hey, Greg," Molly called shyly. He nodded his greeting, and said, "What have you figured out, Sherlock?"

"Victim is in her late thirties, married, no children, two cats, and likely stays at home. My guess is her husband murdered her after she confronted him about his tryst with his secretary. Molly, cause of death?"

Molly studied the body. "Well, at first glance, I'd say blunt force trauma, but due to the petechial hemorrhaging and the nature of the blood pooling, I believe she was struck down, and then smothered."

Sherlock grinned. "Good show, Molly."

She blushed. "Th-thank you."

Just then, Molly's phone rang. She pulled it out. "Hello?"

"Molly?" Mary's voice sounded worried. "Where are you? I thought you weren't leaving for lunch?"

Molly blushed. "I - uh - I'm with Sherlock. On a case."  
Mary gasped. "Can he hear you?"

"Yes."

"When you get back to our room, you're telling me everything."

Molly sighed. "Alright, I'll see you soon."

She hung up. Sherlock grinned. "When you get back tonight, make sure you make up something good. Confuse Mary."

Molly scowled, pulling a laugh out of the aspiring consulting detective.

* * *

Molly was dreading returning to her dorm room, not wanting to explain how her lunch break had turned into a mini-excursion with Sherlock.

She somehow felt ashamed that she'd jumped at an opportunity to spend some time with her enigmatic desk partner. Perhaps, it made her desperate?

Molly sighed. There was no avoiding it now. She opened the door, prepared for the worst.

* * *

"Sit down, grab a pack of biscuits, and tell me everything," Mary demanded.

Molly exhaled loudly. "What specifically do you want to know?"  
"Was it romantic?"  
"He took me for a motorbike ride, if that counts. Of course, we went to the site of a murder."

Mary rolled her eyes. "That's Sherlock for you. Still, you're the only person besides John that he's brought on a case."

"Greg was there too."

Mary shook her head. "How do you think Sherlock finds out about these cases?"

Molly shrugges. "if I've learned anything about him in the short time I've known him, it's to never assume anything about Sherlock Holmes."

Mary nodded. "I can't disagree with that."

Molly bit her lip. "Does...does Sherlock hand out compliments freely?"

"Not usually. Why?"

Molly looked at the biscuit in her hands. "No reason. I was just wondering. Goodnight, Mary."

"Goodnight, Molly."

* * *

Sherlock opened an eye upon hearing his roommate return to their dorm.

John audibly sighed as he dropped his things to the floor. "Why am I taking Advanced Calculus again?"  
"Because senioritis hasn't infected you like it has the rest of us."  
John rolled his eyes. "I'd wager a bet that it's only infected you and Greg. I heard you two cut class again."

Sherlock rolled over to face his best friend. "First of all, you've cut class before to go on a case."

"This is senior year. It's the most important year," John interrupted.

"Secondly," Sherlock continued, "I skipped a study hall, as did Greg and Molly, so it's technically not cutting class."

John's eyebrow quirked. "Excuse me, Greg and who?"  
"Molly. Molly Hooper accompanied me."

John's jaw dropped. "Molly Hooper. As in, quiet, shy, aspiring pathologist, Molly Hooper? As in my girlfriend Mary's roommate Molly Hooper?"  
"Yes. THAT Molly Hooper! Do you know another Molly Hooper?"  
John stared at his roommate, a dopey grin plastered to his face. "You realize that this is the first girl you've shown any interest in since…"

"Yes, I realize, John," Sherlock snapped. If no one ever uttered the name "Irene Adler" again, it wouldn't be soon enough.

John grinned. "So, you like Molly?"  
Sherlock relaxed a bit, glad the topic of discussion had moved from Irene. "I find her company enjoyable, yes."

The sandy-haired boy rolled his eyes at his roommate's inability to hear the underlying meaning behind his questions. "No, I mean do you _like_ her?"

Sherlock groaned. "John, please, not this again!"  
"Sherlock, what is the matter with getting a little psyched over Molly?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "You know why I can't, John."

John sighed and put an arm around Sherlock's shoulders. "Yeah, I know mate. I just think you should at least try to move on. It's been almost two years."

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

A/N 2: Hope you enjoyed that. I hope to update sometime this week. Please review! They keep writers happy. Please keep all criticisms constructive. Thanks, and lots of love.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hello, again! I hope you all are enjoying reading this story as much as I am enjoying writing it. If you don't speak Spanish, I apologize, the translations will be at the end of the chapter. This gets just a tad angsty here, but nothing to heart wrenching (I hope).

Enjoy my lovelies!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock. All rights and blah blah blah belong to the BBC, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, And Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

* * *

CHAPTER 3

The next day, Molly started the day with Spanish. Luckily, she sat next to John. The two friends grinned at each other.

"Clase, siéntese. Hable con sus compañeros en español, por favor," their professor said, obviously very enthusiastic in her career.

"So, Margarita," John asked, ignoring their teacher's request, though using Molly's Spanish name, "I hear Sherlock took you out."

Molly blushed. "On a case," she replied, also forgoing their teacher's wishes. "It wasn't a big deal!"

John put a hand on Molly's shoulder. "Trust me. With Sherlock, it's a big deal."

"How so?"  
John sighed. "He hates for me to tell anyone. He wouldn't speak to me for three weeks after I told Mary."

Molly leaned in closer. "What?"

John pursed his lips. "Okay, but you have to promise to keep it to yourself."

She nodded. "I promise."  
John cleared his throat. "It'll be two years next Friday. He was head over heels for this girl, Irene Adler. They'd only been dating for about six months."  
"Mary said they'd only reached first base."

John nodded. "Sherlock is actually quite the gentleman. He thought it was true love, or he'd never have entertained the thought of entering an actual relationship. His brother always told him that caring wasn't an advantage, but he loved Irene so much, he ignored his brother's instruction."

Molly gasped. "She broke his heart didn't she?"

"Quite badly too. She was...she was found murdered. It was only after investigating her death that it was discovered that she'd been cheating on Sherlock, and using him for God knows what. Sherlock swore off women, and really all human interaction after that."

Molly bit her lip and nodded.

John laid a hand on her arm. "A warning, tread lightly on the subject."

"¡Juan! ¡Margarita! ¡En español, por favor!"

* * *

Molly's next class was English. Greg, Mary, John, and Sherlock were all in the class as well. The boys were seated at the very back of the classroom, the girls at the front.

Molly chewed at her nails, taking in what John had told her.

"Hey." Mary nudged her shoulder. "What's the matter?"

Molly glanced over her shoulder in Sherlock's direction. She turned and looked her friend straight in the eye. "John, he told me about her."

Mary's eyes widened. "Just act like he didn't tell you. I can't deal with another round of silent Sherlock."

Molly nodded, and cast one final glance at Sherlock.

* * *

It didn't take a genius to deduce what Mary and Molly were whispering about. Sherlock glared at his best friend, and spat out through gritted teeth, "You told her, didn't you?"  
John stumbled over his words, unable to create a cognitive thought.

"Sherlock, please don't give him the silent treatment again," Greg pleaded.

"Stay out of this," Sherlock snarled.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry."

"Don't speak, John. You'll only make it worse."

John nodded soberly. "I'm sorry."

* * *

When lunch came around, Molly frantically sought out John.

"Where is he John? Where's Sherlock?"

John sighed. "No offense, but if I can't talk him round, I doubt you can."

"Maybe, but I'd still like to try. Where is he?"  
"He's probably under the willow by the athletic shed."

Molly gave John a quick hug. "Thank you."

"Good luck."

* * *

Molly found Sherlock exactly where John said he'd be. She sat down next to him, though he didn't appear to notice her.

She cleared her throat. "You shouldn't be mad at John, you know. I made him tell me."

Sherlock didn't look at her, but he finally spoke. "And why would you want to know about my life?"  
"Because I'd consider you a friend at this point, and I tend to care about my friends. Actually, most people tend to care about their friends. Sentiment and all."

Sherlock scoffed. "Sentiment. Ha. Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side. Caring is not an advantage."

It was Molly's turn to scoff. "Did your brother tell you that? He's wrong, you know."

By now Sherlock had tuned her out, and Molly knew she would need to hit a nerve to get Sherlock to open up again. She reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. "If it helps, I know exactly how you feel."

"This isn't like losing a pet or a relative, Molly," he replied, a condescending and annoyed tone in his voice.

Molly cleared her throat, which had become thick as a wave of emotion washed over her. "No, I mean my boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend, Jim, committed suicide. I never had a clue he was so distressed. I still don't know why he did it."

Sherlock, at long last, turned to face Molly with a pair of turmoiled eyes. A look of understanding passed between the two teens, and Sherlock realized that, in many ways, he'd found a kindred spirit. "I thought she was the one. It never occurred to me that I was just her plaything. That she was toying with my emotions."

Molly nodded. "I thought Jim was my Prince Charming, come to take me home to be his princess."

Sherlock bit his lip, stifling the tears threatening to come. He turned away from Molly. The tears welled in his eyes did not get past Molly's notice. "Sherlock," she asked.

He was quiet for a moment, and then turned back to her. "Do you still love Jim?"

Molly nodded. "What choice do I have? I refuse to hate him, and carry around all that bitterness. It's the funny thing about hate, it really only has a bad effect on the person doing the hating. He was an important part of my life, and at one time, he was all I wanted. So, yes, I still love him, but in the way you love a brother. I'm not _in_ love with him. No matter how much it hurts, they still are a part of you. You must learn to forgive and forget, and move on. Love again."

"How does that work?"  
"It starts with listening to your heart. It's your brain keeping you from letting go. It thinks you still owe that person something when you don't. Your heart could want something else."

Sherlock smiled as the tears spilled over. "Thank you, Molly Hooper." He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek. "I'll see you later."

"Of course."

Sherlock sauntered off.

Molly grinned at his back, and then muttered to herself, "Eat your heart out, John."

* * *

That night, Sherlock waited for John to return.

"John, I'm sorry," he began, when his roommate walked in.

The sandy-haired boy shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I know how sensitive this topic is for you. I should've let you tell Molly on your own."

The raven-haired boy held up a hand. "No, please. Let me apologize. You're my best friend, and I know you always have my best interest in mind. Also, I have a better understanding of Molly, and I think, a new friend."

John grinned. "Apology accepted. Still friends?" He offered up his hands.

Sherlock took John's hand in his. "Friends."

* * *

A/N: The Spanish translations:

Clase, siéntese. Hable con sus compañeros en español, por favor = Class, sit down. Talk with your companion (deskmate) in Spanish, please.

¡Juan! ¡Margarita! ¡En español, por favor! = John! Molly (well, Margaret)! In Spanish, please!

I figure most of you could figure that out, or put it into Google Translate, but I'm putting it here just in case. John and Molly's Spanish teacher is based on my wonderful Spanish teacher in high school, who had a wonderful pizzazz for Spanish and her students...Oh goodness, I looked at the word "spanish" too long, and now it looks funny.

Reviews are like nectar and ambrosia to a writer. Also, feel free to PM me! I try to respond as quickly as possible.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry this is a short one, but you are getting Chapters 3 & 4 in one day, so I hope that makes up for it. Warning: This talks about the dissection of fetal pigs. To spare you lovelies, I will not describe what you do to a fetal pig. I had that misfortune. It's not nice. If you really want to know, I suppose you can PM me, and I can tell you all about Abrah's and my fetal pig named Delilah. Also, another warning: This chapter has fluff...sort of.

Now enjoy and Allons-y my loves!

* * *

CHAPTER 4

The next day, Molly woke up incredibly excited. Because her Anatomy class was a higher level than the regular Anatomy students, they were starting with fetal pig dissection. They would get to take pictures, and she would get to open up her first body.

Sherlock scurried in late, just as the prof was starting her lab safety lecture. The professor ignored Sherlock as he practically fell into his chair beside Molly.

"Class," the prof called out, "you may name your pig if you wish."

Molly turned and gave a silly grin to her partner. "Whatever shall we name the little one, darling?"

Sherlock chuckled. "I haven't any ideas. It's such a responsibility."

Molly giggled. "If it's a girl, I want to name it Marisol. She's my nasty-smelling great-aunt who said I looked like a pig when I was born."

Sherlock laughed even harder. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you were a beautiful infant. If it's a boy, we should name it Mycroft."

"Who's Mycroft?"

"My overweight, overbearing, overshadowing older brother."

Molly laughed at this, tears running down her face.

The two ceased their antics when the prof stopped in front of their desk. "With your combined curiosities and interests in biology and pathology, I thought i'd give you the problem child. It's a hermaphrodite."

Both Sherlock and Molly's jaws dropped, and then turned into happy grins. "So, now what do we name it," Sherlock asked.

Molly pondered this, and replied, "Maricroft. A combination of Marisol and Mycroft."

"Beautiful."

After taking the necessary photographs for the presentation, Molly pulled out her phone and called over the prof. She handed the phone to her. "Could you take a picture of the two of us?"

The prof nodded.

Molly and Sherlock wrapped an arm around the other's waist, and each lifted a corner of the pan holding Maricroft, tilting it toward the camera.

"Smile," their prof commanded.

Click!

* * *

"What the…" Greg's jaw dropped. "What is that?"  
Molly snickered as she showed Greg her new background. "It's me, Sherlock, and our hermaphroditic baby pig."

Greg pushed his lunch away. "Eww. I think I lost my appetite."

Sherlock and Molly high-fived.

Just then, Phillip and Sally sat down. "Hi, Greg we...ugh! What's that?" Phillip and Sally both shivered in disgust.

Greg moaned. "A fetal pig those two are dissecting."

Sally grinned evilly. "So the freak finally found a freak to hang out with?"

At this, Molly snarled. "If by freak then you mean someone who's smarter than you, and has different interests than you."

Sally snorted. "You both are clearly enjoying dissecting that pig. You two get off on it, don't you?"  
"Yes, Sally, we get all hot and bothered by cutting up hermaphroditic fetal pigs with each other." Molly narrowed her eyes.

Sally lowered her eyes sheepishly. "I didn't...I mean…"

"Shut up," Sherlock spat out, "or do you wish to make yourself appear more of an arse."

Sally made a strangled noise as she stifled a sob, and bolted out the door, Andy following close behind.

* * *

Throughout the day, Molly managed to gross out ten more people with her photo. The eleventh person she showed was Mary.

"Only you two could make something so morbid so adorable."

Molly snickered. "It's only adorable because Sherlock's in it."

Mary shoved her playfully. "He's not the only cute one."

"Aww, thanks, Mary."

"I didn't mean you! I meant baby Maricroft!"

"Oh, hush up!" Molly threw an eraser at her friend's head.

"Oh, hey!" Mary exclaimed, ignoring the projectile that had just been lobbed at her. "Did Sherlock tell you that he and John made up?"

Molly grinned. "No. I'm glad to hear it."

"Do you know what else John told me," Mary quipped.

Molly rolled her eyes affectionately. "No. What else did John tell you?"

"Sherlock Holmes referred to you as a friend," the blonde exclaimed gleefully.

"Ooh, big stuff," Molly replied sarcastically. "Why is that such a big deal?"

Mary laid her hands on Molly's shoulders. "Sherlock Holmes has always said that he has many acquaintances, some of whom he could even say he was fond of, but that he only has one friend."

"John."  
Mary nodded. "Now he has two."

* * *

A/N: Please review, and feel free to PM me! Hope you enjoyed this! Next chapter(s) should be up soon!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hey all...I'm back with Chapter 5! Absolute Fluff, so bear with me. Also, remember, I'm unbetaed and unBritpicked.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, all rights to Mofftiss, BBC and Sir ACD. I also don't own Mean Girls.

* * *

CHAPTER 5

That Friday. THAT Friday. The second anniversary of Irene's death. The day that was supposed to be one of the worst in Sherlock's life. The day that was actually one of the best. All thanks to Molly Hooper.

* * *

The day had started off pretty badly. The power at the Academy was out thanks to a hellish thunderstorm, and the back-up generators hadn't worked since the '80's. All classes were cancelled. John had gone on an impromptu date with Mary, which would take all day. Sherlock had remained in bed, remembering the date, and planning on an uninterrupted day of moping.

Just then, a beam of light shone in the room. Sherlock sat up, squinting in the direction of the beam. "Who is it?"  
The light source moved to shine under the chin of Molly Hooper. "Muahahaha! Hey, Sherlock!"

Sherlock groaned. "What do you want, Molly?"

Instead of answering, she placed an electric lantern in the middle of the floor, illuminating the entire room. She was revealed to have several grocery bags with her.

Sherlock eyed the bags suspiciously. "What's in the sacks?"  
Molly hummed. "An array of sappy, feel-good movies, a portable DVD player, portable generator, two energy drinks, a jumbo box of caramel Cadbury eggs, two packs of chocolate biscuits, and two bags of popcorn."

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. "Why are you bringing me all this?"

"Because it's a dreary day and we are both without our roommates."

Sherlock scowled. "Didn't John tell you what day it is?"

Molly nodded. "And I'm here to cheer you up! Get up!"  
"Has it occured to you I don't want cheered up?" He was slightly startled by the mattress bending under someone's weight.

"I have. Too bad I don't care." When Sherlock tried to answer, Molly shoved a biscuit in his mouth. "Out of bed!"

* * *

"Mean Girls? Seriously, Molly? What makes you think I'll enjoy this?"

She giggled and tapped the side of her head, quoting Karen Smith. "I have a fifth sense. It's like I have ESPN or something! My breasts can sense when you're going to enjoy a movie."

"What?"

Molly shoved a handful of popcorn into Sherlock's open mouth. "Hush. Just watch."

* * *

Two Hours Later…

"What did you think, Sherlock? Do you feel better?"

Effecting a woman's high pitched squeal, he replied, "That's so fetch!"

Molly giggled. "Told you!"

Sherlock grinned. "Thank you for cheering me up Molly. Never again will I question the psychic ability of your breasts."

Just then, the wind picked up, a bright white light flashed, and a clap of thunder reverberated through the room. Molly gasped and grabbed Sherlock's arm.

He grinned and gently patted her hair. "Storm shy, are we?"

Molly nodded meekly. Sherlock pulled the girl into his lap, where she promptly buried her face in his shoulder. Another flash of lightning filled the room with blinding light, and was promptly followed by a clap of thunder. Molly whimpered, and Sherlock held her tighter. "Shh. Molly. It'll be alright." He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

* * *

When Mary and John returned, they were pleasantly surprised to find Molly and Sherlock asleep on his bed. The dark-haired boy was propped into the corner, a pillow behind his head. His arm was wrapped around the petite girl's waist, and she was curled into his side.

"Aww, John! They're so cute!"

John nodded assent. " I underestimated Molly. Perhaps she's managed to crack his stony heart."

Mary giggled. "I always knew he was a giant softie."

"Should we wake them?"

John sighed. "I suppose so. You know that Headmaster Magnussen will have all of our hides if he finds out about this."

* * *

Molly, oddly enough, woke up in her own bed. She sat up and looked over to Mary. "How did I get here?"  
Mary rolled over. "John carried you here from 221."

Molly swallowed, and felt her cheeks flush, imagining that Mary must have thought worst. "We didn't...Sherlock and I...I mean…"

Mary grinned, and gave a sympathetic look to Molly. "I know. It's okay. Why are you so upset?"  
Molly shrugged sheepishly. "I don't know. Because I'm a prude, I guess. I suppose you want to know everything, so, here goes." She sucked in a deep breath. "I went over with junk food and chick flicks to cheer him up, and we watched 'Mean Girls' and the thunder started again, so Sherlock held me and kissed me and told me it would be okay. I guess we fell asleep." Molly exhaled sharply and looked up to see Mary's wide eyes and mouth in a perfect "O." "What," Molly exclaimed.

Mary's face broke into an enormous grin.

"What," Molly repeated.

"Sherlock Holmes kissed you!"

Molly scoffed and rolled her eyes. "On the forehead."  
"Oh. My. God. Molly Hooper, you are so saintly!"

She cocked an eyebrow. "How am I saintly?"  
Mary grinned devilishly. "Had it been me, I would've taken the opportunity to snog him senseless."

Molly developed her own devilish grin. "You would've taken an opportunity to kiss Sherlock?"

Mary scowled. "You know what I meant. I would've snogged John."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Well, forgive me for waiting to snog Sherlock until a fay when it isn't the second anniversary of his first love's death!"

Mary sighed and flopped down on the bed. "Molly," she whined. "I need some good gossip!"

"I got Sherlock to say 'Mean Girls' was fetch?"

"Juicier!"

"Well, I know we were on the floor to watch the movie, and that's where I fell asleep. I'm assuming Sherlock moved us to the bed."

Mary gasped. "That's more like it! Now, tell me, what does he smell like?"

"What?"  
"Scent, odor, aroma!"

Molly's eyes narrowed. "That's a strange question."

"Everyone knows how their significant other smells."

"Through his nose," Molly stated sarcastically.

Mary glared. "What does he smell like?"  
Molly sighed. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the aroma that she knew was uniquely Sherlock. "Well, he kind of smells like the old books he reads, fresh laundry, and, oddly enough, tobacco."

Mary bit her lip. "Not so oddly. He smokes. Not as much anymore, because John hides all his cigarettes."

Molly chuckled. "Ah, well. If he wants his lungs to be black, then so be it."

Mary smiled. "You must really love him if you're okay with his smoking."

A wry smile appeared on Molly's face. "Yes, I suppose I'm rather fond of him." The girls broke into uncontrollable giggles.

* * *

"John, could you please stop staring at me like that?" Sherlock was very perturbed by the wondering eyes and barely concealed grin on his roommate's face.

"You, Sherlock bloody Holmes, fell asleep with Molly Hooper in your arms."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm well aware of that."

"How long have you known her? Two weeks. You didn't even move so quickly with Irene."

Cringing at Irene's name, Sherlock spat, "You make it sound like I already shagged Molly or something."

"Already," John asked, his eyes glinting mischievously.

"What do you mean, 'already'?"

"You make it sound like you have plans to shag Molly."

Sherlock's cheeks flared. "And you are twisting my words."

John chuckled. "Your words say no, but your red face says yes. There's no shame in it. Last Christmas, Mary and I..."

"I know very well about your and Mary's escapades. Hell, Phillip Anderson could've deduced that! And my face says no such thing."

"Liar." There was a pregnant pause, and no words passed between the two. Finally, John asked impishly, "Do you at least plan to snog her senseless?"

Sherlock groaned, and chucked a pillow at the other boy's head. "Goodnight, John."

John snickered. "Night, Sherlock."

* * *

A/N: Too sappy? I hope you enjoyed movie day with Sherlock and Molly. Also, you know how I love reviews! Feel free to PM me! Lots of love! x


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: More shameless fluff. And angst. Definitely some angst, but don't worry. It's all gonna be okay! Enjoy reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. All rights to BBC, Moffat, Gatiss, Sir ACD. I don't own Frozen. It belongs to Disney.

* * *

CHAPTER 6

Sherlock had been tossing and turning all night. John had been at least partially right. When Molly had crawled into his lap, needing comfort, it had taken a lot of effort on his part to only kiss her forehead, and not tilt her chin up and kiss her delicate mouth. Molly had a dizzying effect on Sherlock. There was something about her that made logic go out the window, and his whole body feel warm.

It was these strange feelings telling Sherlock that he should do something sweet for Molly, since she'd been so kind to him. It was these strange feelings that made his rise at five-thirty in the morning, and creep over to Room 257.

He deftly picked the lock and tiptoed to Molly's bed.

"Molly. Molly. Wake up." He gently shook her shoulder.

She rolled over, mumbling something about hating mornings.

"C'mon, Molly!"  
Sherlock finally roused her enough that she opened her eyes. "Sherlock? What is it? What's the matter?"  
He handed her her Converse. "C'mon! I want to show you something!"

Molly rubbed her eyes and pulled her shoes on. "This couldn't have waited till morning?"

He took her hand, leading her out the door. "Technically, it is morning."

* * *

The cool morning air made Molly shiver, as she stepped out onto the roof of Appledore Academy. Sherlock pulled her to the edge, where he carefully sat down, his long legs dangling. Molly followed suit.

"Sherlock, what…" He pressed a finger to her lips and turned her gaze to the horizon. She gasped. The sunrise had painted the sky pink, purple, and gold. "Oh, Sherlock!"

He gingerly wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she tentatively laid her head on his shoulder.

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut it with a knife. Both teens felt slightly out of their element, but in a good way. Both could tell that something food was coming.

When the vibrant hues began to fade, Molly turned to Sherlock and asked why he had taken her here.

"Why not? Am I not allowed to want to take a pretty girl out to see the sunrise?"  
Molly blushed, and glanced up at him from underneath her eyelashes. She noticed that his pupils, which were focused on her lips, were blown out so that only a thin ring of blue-green surrounded them.

Sherlock looked from Molly's mouth to her eyes and back again. An almost imperceptible smile found it way onto Molly's face, and it was all the permission Sherlock needed.

Molly supposed that every girl dreamed of how her first kiss would go. When she was small, she dreamed that her Prince Charming would swoop in and save her from some terrible beast, and they would share a kiss, riding off into the sunset on his valiant steed. As she grew older, the dream transformed. She still imagined a prince-like person delivering the kiss, and her in formal wear of some form. Her dreams usually followed the almost rehearsed pattern of a Disney film. The current situation really didn't resemble her musings in the slightest.

Her head was spinning, and she couldn't think straight. She knew her face had turned bright red, from the almost unbearable heat emanating from it. She felt her heartbeat spike and she began to tremble in anticipation as Sherlock leaned towards her.

She held her breath, and just as she felt Sherlock's lips graze hers, her cell phone rang.

The moment was shattered, and Sherlock groaned, rolling back onto his haunches.

Molly threw him an apologetic look, and answered. "Hello? Mary, I'm fine! Y...Yes! I'll be right down! Breathe!" She hung up. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock. I've got to go! Thank you!" She pecked him on the cheek and took off.

* * *

Molly burst into her dorm. "Mary! What is the matter?"

Mary stifled her tears as she took in Molly's appearance. "Get dressed first. Get comfortable. Then sit down."

Molly did as she was told, and pulled on a pair of jeans and a jumper. She then sat down, and repeated her initial question. "What is the matter?"

Mary sobbed. "I'm late! I'm two weeks late!" Molly immediately understood her friend's predicament.

"It's okay! It might just be a fluke!"

Mary shook her head. "I've never been this late in my life!"

Molly bit her lip. "Look, maybe I could take a sample to the lab for testing. Sherlock could…"  
"No! If he knows, he will certainly tell John, and I can't tell John!"

"Why not? He's the father isn't he? Shouldn't he know?"  
"How do I tell John that I've ruined his life. He'll never be a doctor because I couldn't keep my legs apart."

Molly rolled her eyes. "As I recall, it takes two to tango. You can't lay all the blame on yourself. Besides, who says that his dream of becoming a doctor is ruined? Your parents can help you."

Mary snorted. "That's not happening. My parents will disown me when they find out, and I know that John would drop out of college to get a job, and help support us."

"John's parents?"

"I don't know."

Just then, a knock came at the door. "Mary, it's John. Sweetheart, what's the matter?"  
She cleared her throat. "No...nothing. I'm fine."

Molly elbowed her. "Tell him."

"I'm not telling him," Mary spat.

"Not telling me what? Sherlock, door, now."

Molly tensed as she heard Sherlock picking the lock on the door. Moments later, the boys burst in through the door.

Sherlock's jaw dropped as he immediately deduced the cause of Mary's tears. Molly grabbed her bag and coat, rushed over, and pulled him out of the room. "Call me if you need me, Mary."

* * *

Sherlock stormed down the hallway, muttering under his breath. Molly distinctly made out "bloody," "stupid," and "idiot."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she said, placing a hand on his chest. "Who's a bloody stupid idiot?"

"John," he spat out through a clenched jaw. "What was he thinking?"

"Probably something along the lines of 'Mary's really sexy.'"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Now is not the time for jokes, Molly. They're not really your forte, anyway."

Molly scowled. "Why are you so mad anyway? It's not like John knocked you up. What, do you have something against the whole premarital thing?"

Sherlock let out a sound akin to a growl. "You don't understand. He's my best friend. I'm always going to look out for him."

Molly grabbed his hand. "And he'll always look out for you, but what John needs now is your support, not your anger. He doesn't need a lecture, he needs someone to lean on."  
Sherlock smiled. "How do you know so much?"

She squeezed his hand. "I observe."

His grin widened. "C'mon. Let's go do something. I need to get my mind off this, and John and Mary need some time alone."

She nodded. "I'd like that. Hold on. I'll text Mary"

"Mary, are you all right? Sherlock wants me to hang out with him - MHx"

"I'm fine. Go have fun. We'll talk tonight. - MMx"

Molly looked up from her phone. "Okay, Sherlock. Let's go."

* * *

Molly and Sherlock climbed onto the shiny black motorbike and headed to the cinema. They were going to see a special showing of "Frozen."

"God, I love Disney films. I can't believe this came out almost a year ago." Molly squealed. "My little sister dragged me to see this twice. Of course," she added, "they say third time the charm, so I'm glad you're the one taking me."

Sherlock grinned. "John also dragged me twice. I think he has a crush on Sven."

Molly giggled, and sang, "Reindeers are better than people. Sven, don't you think that's true?"

Holding his hands to his head like antlers, Sherlock answered, "Yes, people will beat you, and curse you, and cheat you. Every one of 'ems bad, except you." For emphasis, he poked Molly's arm.

Molly giggled, and ruffled his raven curls. "Aww, thanks buddy."

The tattooed cashier cleared her throat. "Are you two done?"

The two teenagers blushed and scurried into the theatre. The aisles sloped down to the seats, and on either side of the theatre, there were balconies of sorts, and on the balconies there were leather couches. Sherlock dragged her to one of the couches.

"Don't you have to reserve these?"

Sherlock grinned. "While you were arranging things with Mary, I was making some of arrangements of my own."

Molly gasped and hugged him tight. "Thank you! That's so sweet!"

"Anything for you, Molly Hooper!"

* * *

A/N: Again, a lot of fluff. If my description of the theatre confuses you, go to www dot campustheater dot org. This theatre is beautiful, has couches you can reserve, and does special showings. For instance, they showed "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe" for the entire fall play cast. You can also Google images of the Campus. Anywho, I love me some reviews, and feel free to PM me! Sayonara, my lovelies! xx


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Here is Chapter 7! It's a bit of angst (But not really, because I promised fluff) and lots of shameless fluff. Hope you all are enjoying this! 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. All rights go to BBC, Moffat, Gatiss, and Sir ACD. I also don't own Frozen, it belongs to the people at Disney.

* * *

By the time Kristoff was introduced, Molly was curled into Sherlock's side. She reached her right hand, which was pressed into Sherlock's side, up to twine her fingers with his left where it rested on her waist. She whispered in Sherlock's ear, "You know, Mary and I were thinking about dressing up as Anna and Elsa for next Halloween. You and John want to join us?"

Sherlock grinned. "Only if I get to be Sven."

Molly smiled. "I'd love to see you in reindeer antlers."

Sherlock chuckled. "So would John, I think."

* * *

When the picture ended, Sherlock hugged Molly tight. "Thank you, Molly, for coming with me."

"Anytime, Sherlock. I had a lot of fun."

They climbed on the motorbike and returned to the Academy.

* * *

Molly approached her dorm room, reluctant to leave Sherlock's side. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I need to be there for John, and Mary needs you."

Molly nodded. "Alright. See you Monday, love."  
Sherlock smiled, and leaned down, pressing a kiss just shy of of her mouth. "Monday."

Molly stood frozen, a dazed half-smile plastered to her face, watching as Sherlock sauntered off, an apparent bounce in his step.

* * *

The next day, Molly waited patiently for Mary to wake up. She sat on the girl's bed gently, petting her blonde hair, as Mary came to full consciousness.

"Molly, I'm sure you must think the worst of me."

"No. You're still my best friend, and I'll always support you."

Mary breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Molly."

The brown-eyed girl smiled, and pulled her friend to a sitting position, giving her a bear hug.

"How did John take it," Molly asked, concern clouding her voice.

Mary grinned a bit. "Fairly well, actually. His thinks his parents might be willing to help, since he's sort of the favorite. His sister, Harry, has a big drinking problem. And he's not cross with me. He says we'll play it by ear, because he loves me more than anything, and would never let anything come between us."

Molly grinned. "That's wonderful, love. I'm glad to hear everything worked out. Sherlock and I were so very worried."

The mischievous glint returned to Mary's eyes. "So, uh, what did you and Sherlock get up to?"

Molly blushed. "Well, before you called me, he got me up to watch the sunrise and very nearly kissed me. For real. And then we went to see 'Frozen,' and we snuggled on a couch."

"He did give you a goodnight kiss, right?"  
"Sort of. He kissed me here," Molly replied, pointing to the area just past her mouth.

Mary squealed and clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh my goodness! You're, like, his girlfriend now!"

"No. No," Molly protested. "I mean, we never made it official or anything."  
Mary narrowed her eyes. "Sherlock Holmes almost gave you your first kiss twice today. You are his girlfriend."

Molly blushed. "I guess so." She paused. "Oh my God! Sherlock Holmes is my boyfriend."

Mary laughed. "Just as long as you and I are the only ones who say so. Unless Sherlock says otherwise, never refer to him as your boyfriend. He really hates it when the whole P.E. class demands to know if he's shagged his girlfriend yet, wanting sordid details."

Molly chuckled. "Sherlock talking dirty." She couldn't even picture the scenario in her mind.

"Yeah, try talking nerdy."

Molly assumed a dramatic pose, and mimicked Sherlock's voice. "Oh, the way you hold that chemistry book sends my testosterone levels sky high." She paused. "Actually, I probably would find it very sexy if he said that to me."

Mary scoffed. "You, Molly Hooper, are the only person I know who would prefer talking nerdy to dirty."

* * *

"John, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have stormed out like that."

"I forgive you, of course. You're my best mate. I know you're just looking out for me."

Sherlock stuck his hand out. "Friends?"

John forgoed the handshakes and pulled his best friend into a hug. "Friends."

"Is Mary alright."

John nodded. "I'm not upset. You roll with the punches of life. I'm hoping my parents will be willing to help us."

Sherlock grinned. "Of course they will. Molly and I will too."

"So," John continued, "you and Molly."

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. "Me and Molly what?"  
John sighed. "You and Molly! You went on a date!"

"Yes. What's your point?"  
"Well, is it official? Is she your girl? Untouchable?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Well, I didn't ask her, so I suppose it's not actually official."

John groaned, and the grinned. "Did you kiss her yet?"

Sherlock moaned. "I wish. Your girlfriend's untimely call interrupted us. And I was too nervous last night."

"It'll happen. Just go with it."

* * *

Molly had never been so nervous in her life. For whatever reason, she felt like she couldn't be around Sherlock. Some of the magic had worn off, and now Molly realized she was in a relationship, and she couldn't chase away images of Jim. She realized that it was possible that her heart could be broken again.

"I wonder if this is what princesses deal with after they ride off into the sunset," she mused.

It was taking all of Molly's effort to walk into Anatomy.

"You can do this, Molly. You can do this. It's just Sherlock." She paused. "I can't do this."

"Can't do what," she heard a familiar baritone ask.

"Uhh." She whirled around to face Sherlock. "Nothing. Nevermind. Hi."

"Hello. What are we doing today?"

"Umm, we have a substitute, so we can't go any further in the lab. I suppose we'll have a study hall."

He nodded. "Are you alright, Molly? You seem...jumpy."  
"What? No! I'm peachy! Never been better! Um, yeah!"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Okay."

"I'm...I'm just going to, uh, study. Yeah, study." Molly hurried to a separate desk, rushing to spread her material across the table, immediately indication that she wanted to sit alone.

Sherlock worried his lip, and took a seat from which he could observe her.

"Tense muscles, obviously nervous about something. Possibly concerned about her grades, which would explain the studying, but she is finishing the exercises easily and quickly. However, she keeps getting distracted, and looking up at me, blushing, and gets back to work. Ergo, I am somehow upsetting her." He stood and sat next to her. "Molly, don't lie. Something is bothering you. Tell me. Please."  
She sighed. "It's nothing. It's stupid really." She tried to appease him with a wide grin.

Sherlock wasn't fooled. "Molly, I know it's me making you nervous. Tell me what I've done."

Molly dragged her hands down her face. "You didn't. It's me. This...us...it's been a while since Jim. I'm just...hesitant. What if it doesn't work? What if I screw something up? What if I break your heart? What if...what if you break mine?"

Sherlock wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulders. "Breathe. Why are you worrying?"

Tears formed in Molly's eyes, and she wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't. I promise." He kissed her forehead. "I'm in this for the long haul."

She pulled away and a smile appeared on her face. "Me too."  
Sherlock winked at her, then picked up a Sharpie and her planner.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" Instead of answering, Sherlock threw her a mischievous grin, and began to scribble in her planner.

Molly rolled her eyes, and returned to her studies, glancing up occasionally to grin at Sherlock.

When the bell rang, Sherlock thrust the planner into Molly's hand. "Check that out later. I think you'll enjoy it."  
Molly grinned, and took his hand. "Come on, you. Professor Hudson gave me chocolate chip scones, and I have two peanut butter and jam sandwiches."

Sherlock eagerly followed. "Ooh. What kind of jam?"

Molly laughed. "I thought John was the one with jam fetish. If you must know, it's my own recipe. Blackberries, honey, and a bit of lemon juice." She laughed even harder to see Sherlock practically drooling.

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed that! Reviews make writers super, super happy, even if they are (Constructive) criticisms! Also feel free to PM me! Love you all! x


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Hopefully you can read this fix. I'm sorry for that. The internet is never perfect. Sorry for the inconveniences. Love you all! x

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. All rights to BBC, Moffat, Gatiss, and Sir ACD

* * *

Molly and Sherlock took their usual seat across from Greg.

"You don't have any more morbid selfies," the silver-haired boy asked warily, through a bite of meat pasty.

Molly chuckled. "No. We had a substitute, so we didn't get to spend time with Maricroft."

Greg eyes the proximity of the two, and grinned. "So, uh, John told me you two went out on Saturday."

Just then, Sally and Phillip sat down. "You mean the freak duo are a thing now? Like, Sherlock Holmes has a living, breathing girlfriend?"

Sherlock scowled. "What's it to you?"

Ignoring his comment, Sally directed her line of questioning at Molly. "Does he even know how to...umm…" Sally cleared her throat suggestively.

If one hangs out with Sherlock Holmes long enough, one begins to pick up some of his nearly flawless deductive skills, and occasionally, some of his more Aspergerish (or sociopathic, as he'd say) tendencies, and Molly Hooper was no exception. However, Molly had the distinct advantage of being generally more sociable, and more understanding of society's emotions. Because of this combination, Molly Hooper realized something about Sally Donovan that she never had before now.

Molly now knew how to end this. "Wouldn't you like to know? Sherlock, should I spare her the details, or let her have it?"  
Sherlock immediately deduced what Molly had just figured out, and he grinned devilishly. "Let her have it."

Molly cleared her throat. "People complain about the amount of PDA that happens between you and Phillip. However, when you are around other boys, this PDA ceases. What this shows is that you aren't completely happy with Phillip, and are constantly on the lookout for a new man, but refuse to be single in the interim. Your verbal attacks on Sherlock show that he's pointed this out before now, and your interest in his, shall we say...skill set, show that he's rejected you, but you still wonder what it'd be like to have him. Doesn't it just rile you up that you'll never know how any of your boyfriends will measure up?"

Tears welled in Sally's eyes. "Y-you're a freak. Just like him. You're made for each other. I hope you enjoy your time together." She ran off.

Phillip scowled. "It was bad enough with one freak."

"If you have any plans of continuing with Sally, I suggest you go salvage your relationship at once," Sherlock advised. Phillip rolled his eyes, and took his leave.

Greg was stuck with a half-grin plastered to his face. "Molly Hooper, you are my new favorite person."

She blushed and leaned into Sherlock. He pulled her flush against his side, and kissed her temple, whispering, "That's my girl."

* * *

Later that day, during Molly's art class, another girl, Meena, approached her. "Your the new girl, Molly Hooper, right? The one who finally told off Sally Donovan. Sherlock Holmes' girlfriend?"  
"Yes, I'm Molly Hooper."  
"Meena Doyle. Nice to meet you. 'Course, you're the talk of the Academy."

Molly's brow furrowed. "Really? Why?"

"Well, you finally called Sally out on being a man-stealing wench, and you've somehow managed to thaw Sherlock's frozen heart."

Molly was confused. "And this somehow makes me a hero or something?"  
Meena nodded enthusiastically. "Sally Donovan's tried to steal pretty much every guy in this school at least once. And Sherlock. Molly, if you'd known him before Irene. Sweetest guy alive."

"I think he's pretty sweet. I mean, he's nice to me. Doesn't deduce the life out of me."

Meena grinned. "You, he likes. He always did it to everyone, but kind of more as a parlor trick. Once made a thousand pounds at a school fundraiser pretending to be a psychic. He only became so cold and harsh after Irene. You've brought back a little of the old Lock."

"Lock," Molly exclaimed incredulously.

Meena giggled and blushed. "Everyone gets a nickname from me. I originally called him Sherly, but he insisted his name was 'Sherlock.'" Meena did an impeccable impression of Sherlock's voice. "Finally, he cracked. He told me that if I could come up with a nickname that he deemed tolerable, he'd let me use it."

Molly giggled. "Lock. I like it."

"Thanks. 'Course, I haven't called im that since he went all frozen on us."

Molly nodded. "You should start again."

* * *

That night, Sherlock and Molly walked out in the garden. "Molly, tell me what's on your mind."

She sighed. "I'm assuming you know Meena Doyle?"  
Sherlock nodded. "She's going to be a fashion designer, right?"  
"Yes. She, well, she mentioned you. Well, she specifically mentioned...never mind."

He raised an eyebrow. "What?"  
Molly bit her lip, and stopped. "Everyone keeps saying I'm your girlfriend, and I suppose I just want to know...well, where you, I mean, we stand?"  
A smile tugged at the corner of Sherlock's mouth. He pulled her into his arms, her head pressed against his chest. "Molly, personally I hate the terms, and find them juvenile. I told you, I'm in this for the long haul. I suppose according to societal norms, you are my girlfriend. At least, you are if you'd like to be. I-I'd like you to be."

Molly looked up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Deduce my answer."

He grinned and kissed her forehead. "I thought you might say that."

Molly skipped in her dorm room, grinning like the Cheshire cat. Mary looked up from her book. "Why're you so cheery?"

"Sherlock said I was his girlfriend."

Mary rolled her eyes in jest. "Oh, that's all?"

"Simple pleasures, Mary. Simple pleasures."

* * *

The next day, Molly could barely contain herself in Spanish. John, thought he didn't possess Sherlock's deductive skills, knew that her glee likely stemmed from the dark-haired boy with whom he shared a room. "Hey, Margarita! How's it hanging?"  
She giggled. "It be banging, Juan!"

John picked up on an unintentional double entendre in her words. "What's banging? Or rather, who?"  
Molly punched his arm. "Ew, John! That not what I meant and you know it!"

John grinned and waggled his eyebrows like a Vaudeville actor. "Oh, come on, Molly. I'm just ragging on you."

She gave him a pointed look. "You're upset because Sherlock won't tell you anything, aren't you?"  
John scowled. "His sociopathic tendencies and deductive reasonings are rubbing off."

Molly smirked. "Didn't Sally tell you? I'm a freak too!"

That day in English, a new girl entered class. Her name was Janine, and she was Headmaster Magnussen's niece. The professor sat her in the empty seat by Molly and Mary.

"Want to sit with us at lunch," Mary asked cordially.

Janine nodded. "I'd like that. Thank you."

The new girl threw a flirtatious look over her shoulder. Something about it put Molly on edge.

* * *

A lunch, Sherlock was flanked by the two newest additions to Appledore Academy's student body: Molly Hooper and Janine Williams.

Sherlock had never been so uncomfortable. Janine was flirting with him incessantly, always trying to attain physical contact. Normally, Sherlock would've just told her off, but since she was the Headmaster's niece, she was practically untouchable.

"Sherl, what do you think of my hair?"

"I don't, and don't call me Sherl." He sent a pleading look in the direction of everyone else at the table, one that clearly said, "Help!"

Molly didn't know what to do. She wanted to help Sherlock, but she knew Janine was a no-go. Instead, Molly reached out and took Sherlock's hand, helpless to do anything else.

* * *

A/N: Did it work this time? I hope so! Also, dun-dun-dun, Janine! Is she going to cause trouble in paradise? What are the teens going to do?

Reviews are wonderful! I love them! Feel free to PM me!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: This is such a long chapter. I hope you like what I've done with this chapter, in which shenanigans with Janine ensue. It may seem like it's about to get very angsty, but, as I'm terrible at writing angst, it gets fluffy rather quickly. I apologize if it makes the story move a bit too quickly. This was the hardest chapter to write. I've never really had an angsty relationship, so I don't know how to write this well.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. All rights go to BBC, Moffat, Gatiss, and Sir ACD.

* * *

Within a week of Janine's arrival at the school, it was apparent that Sally Donovan no longer held the title of biggest maneater. Everyone was so annoyed with Janine, that Molly had apologized to Sally, the two had made up, and had joined forces with Sherlock, John, Mary, Greg, and Phillip to catch her in the act. They met in the dorm room of Kitty Riley, the school's newspaper reporter, who was in the process of creating an expose on Janine's shenanigans.

* * *

"We all know she's flirted with practically every man in the school," Mary quipped, two weeks into Janine's stay.

"I've caught her snogging five times after P.E.," Phillip remarked. "And with a different guy each time." He held up photographs. "I got photos of all five encounters."

"I heard she shagged Bobby Reynolds," John offered.

"But," Molly interrupted. "she's a date 'em and dump 'em sort of girl, and she keeps coming back to Sherlock."

He twined their fingers. "I'm not going to give up my girl just because some hormonal girl with too much makeup has the hots for me."

Molly smiled, and laid her head on Sherlock's shoulder.

* * *

The next week, Molly sat alone in study hall. Sherlock and Greg had gone off on a case, but she'd needed to stay behind and study for a big exam. She was happily listening to a violin concerto that Sherlock had recorded for her, reviewing her Anatomy notes.

Eventually, Molly was aware of a presence beside her. She pulled her earbuds out and turned to face the intruder.

Janine.

Molly rolled her eyes and returned them to her notes. "What do you want, Janine?"

"I just want to apologize."

Molly scoffed. "For what? Trying to sabotage my relationship?"  
Janine stifled a sob. "No. I wasn't trying. I didn't realize I was leading poor Sherl on. He...he came on to me last night. I tried to fend him off, but he's...he's too much. I'm...I'm sorry, Molly. I know how much he meant to you."

Molly slowly turned to face Janine, and burst out laughing. "Are you kidding me? There are things you don't know about Sherlock. Things I know that tell me that of all the underhanded things he could do to betray me, cheating is not one of them. Not to mention, you really should check your sources before you fabricate a lie like that. Sherlock was with John all last night."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm...what are you saying?"

Janine wiped her eyes. "I'm saying that Sherl isn't the Prince Charming you think he is. He told me that he never loved you anyway. Too mousy." She stood and sauntered off.

"Say your prayers, Holmes," Molly hissed.

* * *

"I can't believe you identified a serial killer," Greg praised.

Sherlock shook his head. "I told you. Don't mention it. I'm just glad we got him off the streets."

Greg nodded. "Well, thanks."

Sherlock turned and entered into his dorm room. "Sherlock Holmes. You messed with the wrong aspiring pathologist."

He flipped on the light. "Molly. What are you talking about?"

She stood and slowly paced towards him. "I'm talking about how you were with 'John' all night."

Sherlock was confused. "Yes. I was helping him study chemical reactions."

She laughed cynically. "So you're not a total liar. I heard you were studying chemistry, but with a different 'J'. Specifically, Janine."

His jaw dropped. "Molly, who told you such lies."

"I heard it straight from the horse's mouth. She said that you said that you never loved me. I thought...I thought I meant something to you. I guess I was wrong." She went to move past him, but he grabbed her arm.

"Molly Hooper. I can't believe you. You think I would leave you? I love you more than I've ever loved anyone else. For God's sake, I didn't love Irene half as much as I love you."

Tears formed in Molly's eyes. "You...you love me?"

Sherlock took her face between his hands, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. "Of course I love you, Molly."

She threw her arms about his neck and he wrapped his arms around her waist, picking her up off the ground. "I love you, Sherlock. So much. So, so much."

He set her down on her feet, and leaned in. Just then, John and Mary burst through the door.

Sherlock groaned. "Seriously? Every bloody time!"

Molly chuckled. "C'mon. I think we need to call an emergency meeting."

* * *

The eight teens were soon congregated in Kitty's room.

"I know we've been annoyed with Janine. I think everyone is, but I draw the line when she starts telling lies to get what she wants," Sherlock growled. "No one hurts my friends and gets away with it."

Sally nodded. "For once, I agree with the freak. Molly's been nothing but nice, even though Janine's been coming on to her boyfriend for three weeks. This latest development was underhanded and cruel."

The girlfriend in question, with a devious plot in mind, muttered, "We should give her a taste of her own medicine."

Molly didn't voice her idea, and she didn't need to; Sherlock was way ahead of her.

"Molly, you're a genius," Sherlock exclaimed. "If I go in as bait, and Kitty's hiding somewhere with a video camera, we have video and audio evidence."

"Not Kitty," Molly interjected. "Send Sally."

The whole room looked at her. Molly blushed, and cleared her throat. "No offense, Kitty, but as a reporter, your word's less credible, because you have the means to edit the information. No one really knows that Sally and I made up. The whole school, and likely Headmaster Magnussen, still believes that Sally hates me and Sherlock. It'd be totally believable that Sally heard the two of them talking somewhere, and videotaped the encounter to sabotage Sherlock, and instead caught Janine trying to seduce him. Sherlock could call her out on her other crimes, and then we'd have her."

Greg chuckled. "Molly, that is the most devious thing I've ever heard. And I love it."

Everyone agreed to the brilliantly devious plot that Molly devised.

* * *

That Friday, it was set up perfectly. Sally was stationed in Greg's room with Phillip, under the pretense that Phillip was visiting his cousin, videocamera at the ready. Sherlock was sitting outside his dorm, pretending that John was out, and that he'd forgotten his key.

Janine came around the corner, and gave a sultry smile when she saw Sherlock. "Hey, Sherl. What are you doing out so late?"

"I forgot my key, and am waiting for John to get home so he can open the door. Molly is studying and I'm not going to disturb her to let me into her for a while." These were the preplanned code words, and Sally, who'd been filming a staged video of Phillip and Greg dancing, carefully opened the door and turned the camera on Janine and Sherlock, retaining a hidden position.

"Well, lucky for you, Sherl, I have my key. You can stay in my room."

He chuckled nervously. "That's okay, Janine. I'm fine right here, and I really don't think my girlfriend would appreciate me hanging out in another girl's room without telling her."

Janine stepped closer to Sherlock. "What she doesn't know can't hurt her. I won't tell."

Sherlock backed away, hitting the wall. "I don't really feel comfortable with the situation."

Janine pressed her body flush against his, her fingers dancing over his chest. "I'm sure you'd be more comfortable in my room."

"Is that what you told Bobby Reynolds? And the five guys you snogged after P.E.?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she took a step back. "Excuse me?"

"I have sources. Photographic evidence. Don't try to lie."

Janine did not get that the jig was up, and attempted to seduce him once more. "So I shagged Bobby. So I kissed Steven, Rupert, Earl, Mark, and Andrew. I only did so to make you jealous."

At this Sherlock actually laughed. "Are you insane? I don't find you appealing as girlfriend material, nor do I even like you as a person. Why am I supposed to be jealous?"

Janine hissed and stepped far from Sherlock. "You messed with the wrong girl, Holmes."

When Janine was out of earshot, Sherlock called, "Did you get that, Sally?"  
"Loud and clear, freak."

"Love you too, Donovan."

She fought back a grin. "I did it for Molly, okay. Don't go thinking we're friends or something."

Sherlock laughed. "I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

The next day, all eight teens knocked on Headmaster Magnussen's office door. It swung open to reveal Janine weeping crocodile tears into her uncle's shoulder.

"Oh great," Sally muttered. "She beat us here."

"Sherlock, I'm pleased you're here already. It saves me the trouble of calling you all down here. Now, I'm not one to accuse without hearing both sides of the story, but my Janine tells me that you tried to seduce her, and take advantage of her."

Sherlock snorted, and his seven compatriots rolled their eyes. "Headmaster, I do believe it was the other way around," Sally piped up.

Magnussen turned his gaze on Sally. "Do you have something to say, Miss Donovan?"

Sally cleared her throat. "Last night, I was taking a video of Phillip and Greg."

Magnussen raised a brow. "A video of what, pray tell?"

"They were mocking how girls dance. And I heard Janine and Sherlock talking in the hallway. I opened the door to see what was going on. I brought my camera with me, and caught the whole thing on tape. See for yourself."

"J'accuse," Mary murmured.

The Headmaster watched the tape, no reaction present on his face, other than an occasional raised brow. The eight teens stood tensely, and Molly moved to take Sherlock's hand.

When the film ended, Headmaster Magnussen stood. "Well, well. This certainly changes things." He straightened his glasses. "Janine, if you would remain here, the rest of you are dismissed."

The eight teens swiftly returned to John and Sherlock's room. As soon as the door closed, a cheer went up.

* * *

Two days later, Kitty came bounding up to the lunch table. "Hey, guess what I just heard?"

"What?"  
"Well, apparently Janine was sent here to keep her in line. She's from a strict Catholic family, and her shenanigans were getting her in trouble, so her parents sent her here as a last resort to a Catholic girl's school. They figured that if she had a family member present at the school she'd stay out of trouble. Apparently, the distance from home had the opposite effect. She's off to the convent."

Molly grinned. "Good riddance. No one steals my man." She slung a protective arm around Sherlock's shoulders. He looped an arm around Molly's waist. "Like I said, it'll take more than a hormonal girl wearing too much makeup to pull me away from my Molly." He kissed her forehead.

Sally scoffed. "And you accuse me and Phillip of being the king and queen of PDA."  
Greg rolled his eyes. "Sherlock and Molly don't stick their tongues down the other's throats in public."

"Harhar," Phillip snarked. "You're just jealous Greg, that you don't have a girl to snog."

The silver-haired boy rolled his eyes, and shot a look at Sherlock. The raven-haired boy shook his head slightly, and smirked.

* * *

A/N: It moved too fast. I know it did. If anyone can give me some angst writing pointers, it'd be much appreciated. Your author is the one who punched a guy in the face, dated the same guy a year later, broke up with him four weeks later, and the guy and I are still best friends. He wears the scar from my right hook like a badge of pride. Loves to tell people that it's me who gave him the scar. Anyway, I hope this wasn't too terrible, and I hope you'll continue reading. Reviews, constructive criticisms, and PMs are more than welcome. Love you all. xx


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: So, back to my shameless fluff. I hope this makes up for the disaster that was last chapter. I'm so sorry I put you all through that. I thought it would be weird that these chapters are about Christmas, but then I thought, "Hey, Christmas in July!"

Hope you all are enjoying this story, and haven't given up after last chapter. Love you all.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. All rights belong to BBC, Moffat, Gatiss, and Doyle.

* * *

Christmas vacation was in a week. The excitement in the air at Appledore was tangible, and all was seemingly right with world. Mary, in the mess with Janine, had forgotten to mention that her pregnancy was just a false alarm. It wasn't until four days before Christmas break began.

"I'm sorry, Molly. I was too busy saving your boyfriend from Janine to remind you that I am not pregnant." Mary munched on an apple, perched on a table at the library.

Molly rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm sorry that I want to know whether I'm going to be an aunt or not."

Mary chuckled. "I'm sorry. "

Just then, Sherlock appeared at Molly's side. "I hate to interrupt ladies, but Molly here needs to pack."

When Mary was out of earshot, Sherlock leaned down and whispered, "John tells me that he's giving Mary an engagement ring for Christmas."

Molly gasped. "Really! That's wonderful!"

"C'mon. You need to pack, and I need to arrange for you present. I'm hoping it will arrive on Christmas Day."

By that time, the two had reached Molly's room. "Sherlock," Molly said. "I'm a terrible girlfriend. What are your plans for Christmas?"  
Sherlock shrugged. "My parents are traveling in the Caribbean, and my brother has some sort of political event going on. I'll probably stay here."

Molly stopped dead in her tracks. "What are you talking about? You're not staying here. You'll come home with me. My parents would love to have you."  
"I can't, Molly. I wouldn't want to impose."  
She sighed. "You wouldn't be imposing. I insist. You're my boyfriend, and I'm not letting you be alone on Christmas. Christmas is a time for family and togetherness, not loneliness. Go, get your bags packed. We'll send them ahead of us."

"Are you sure?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Sherlock. I'm sure!"

* * *

Four days later, classes ended, and the students were excused. Molly and Sherlock bade John, Mary, Greg, Sally, and Phillip farewell and hopped on a train back to London.

Molly had never seen Sherlock so tense. "Love, what's the matter? You're so tense?"

Sherlock bit his lip. "What if...what if your family doesn't like me?"

Molly twined her fingers with his. "They will. I promise. Just be yourself."

Molly stood on her toes, trying to locate her family in the sea of people at the train station. "Curse my wretched shortness!"

Sherlock smirked, and crouched down. "Hop on, shortstuff." Molly clambered onto his back, securing her legs around his waist.

Now that her eyeline was over six feet off the ground, Molly had a much better view of the crowd. She craned her neck around, and finally spotted them. Pointing, she squealed, "There they are!"

Sherlock followed her arm to lay eyes on her family. He mother was the spitting image of Molly, though her hair was graying around the edges. Her father was a well-built man of average height, with salt-and peppery hair. Her little sister, Olivia, was a cherubic little girl, with innumerable freckles and unruly, springy red curls.

"Come on, Sherlock!" He took off in the direction she indicated.

Sherlock stopped a few yards away, and let Molly down, so they could approach in a more civilised manner.

Molly took off to envelope her whole family in a group hug.

"Leelee, I missed you," her little sister exclaimed.

She grinned. "I missed you, too, Livi."

Sherlock looked at his feet and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Oh," Molly exclaimed, dragging Sherlock forward. "Everyone, this is Sherlock."

He blushed, and smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you all."

Mrs. Hooper pulled him into her arms. "We're thrilled to meet you, too."  
When she released him, he offered a hand to Mr. Hooper, who clasped it warmly. "Welcome, to the family, Sherlock."

* * *

The car ride to the Hooper's home was very pleasant. Olivia babbled happily about the Christmas party her class had thrown. When the little girl finally ran out of things to say, Mr. and Mrs. Hooper began to question the two teenagers.

"What do you want to pursue, in way of a career, Sherlock?"  
"I'm going to be a consulting detective."  
Mrs. Hooper's eyebrows raised. "What's that?"

"When the police are out of their element, which is always, the consult me."  
"He can tell everything about you at a glance," Molly supplied. "The police already bring him out on cases."

"I see. Do you mind giving us a display of this skill set," Mr. Hooper inquired.

"Not at all, Mr. Hooper. Let's see. "You are a surgeon, and well-liked by your family and friends. Your parents divorced when you were eight, and you lived primarily with you mother and older sister. You met Mrs. Hooper in uni. Love at first sight. You have a penchant for mystery and crime novels, and are an accomplished chess player."

Mr. Hooper's jaw dropped and then turned into a grin. "Glad to see you've picked someone smart."

Molly smiled and grasped Sherlock's hand. "He's an absolute genius."

* * *

Sherlock's room in the Hooper house was right next to Molly's. He was unpacking when a knock came at the door. He walked over and opened it. "Oh, hello, Mr. Hooper."

"Sherlock, hi. May I come in?"  
"Of course. It's your house. Thank you again for allowing me to stay here."  
Mr. Hooper smiled. "Of course. Well, I'm just going to cut to the chase. Has Molly told you anything about Jim?"

Sherlock nodded. "Everything."

"Then you understand why I'm here."

"You're about to tell me to tread lightly and keep my hands to myself."

Mr. Hooper nodded. "Are you prepared for an ultimatum?"

Sherlock swallowed. "I-I think so."

Molly's father cleared her throat. "I trust my daughter's judgement. She trusts you, so I trust you. So long as you don't betray that trust, you will be treated as a part of this family. You betray my trust, or hurt my girl, I will make you wish you'd never been born."

"Does that mean I can't kiss her if we get caught under the mistletoe?"

Mr. Hooper laughed. "You are both almost eighteen. I can't keep you under my thumb forever. Like I said, I trust her judgement. For what it's worth, I won't mind if you kiss her. Just...I don't want any grandkids yet."

Sherlock's cheeks flared as he understood Mr. Hooper's meaning. The older man chuckled and clapped Sherlock on the back. "C'mon. Mrs. Hooper's making dinner."

* * *

While her father was lecturing Sherlock, Molly was talking with her mother.

"Sherlock seems like a sweet boy."

Molly smiled. "The sweetest. He really cares about me."

"Cares about you? Molly, have you seen the way he looks at you? He's absolutely in love with you. Hasn't he told you that?"  
Molly nodded. "He doesn't have to, though. He tells me without speaking, in his own way."

Mrs. Hooper smiled. "C'mon. Let's go eat."

Molly carried out a stack of dishes, followed by her mother with the soup.

"I hope you all are hungry," Mrs. Hooper said.

Everyone, including Sherlock, agreed emphatically.

* * *

"See, Sherlock, I told you they'd like you," Molly said, sitting next to him on the chaise in her room.

He sighe. "Your parents and sister like me. We still can't speak for your grandparents and aunts and uncles."

"Sherlock, their opinion doesn't matter to me. You're ran the gauntlet and passed the test." She hugged him tight. "Did my dad talk to you?"  
He nodded.

"Are you going to be in trouble being in here?"  
"He told me that he trusts our judgement, and so long as we don't give him any grandchildren anytime soon, my name's not Mud."

Molly giggled. "My dad's secretly a giant teddy bear. He wouldn't hurt a fly."

Sherlock kissed her cheek. "Remind me all who's coming."  
Molly counted her relatives off on her fingers. "Tomorrow, mum's parents, Grandma Margie, and Grandpa Joe. The day after, on Christmas, Dad's mum, Grandmother, and my great-aunt Marisol."

Sherlock's brow raised.

"Yes _that_ Great-Aunt Marisol. Also my aunt Lara and Uncle Martin will arrive with my cousins Ben and Loo. Twins. Both nine."

"Anyone I should walk on eggshells with?"  
Molly grinned. "Only Great-Aunt Marisol and Grandmother. Ignore whatever they say."

Sherlock nodded. "So definitely don't mention our baby pig?"  
"Not to them. Grandma Margie, and Grandpa Joe will think its really funny."

* * *

A/N: Did it make up for last chapter? I hope it did. Love you all. I would love some reviews or PMs. xx


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I'm baaaack! I don't know if I'll be able to post tomorrow, but I'll definitely be back on Monday. This chapter details some Christmas shenanigans. Hope you all enjoy it! Love you! xx

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. All rights to BBC, Moffat, Gatiss, and Sir ACD.

* * *

The next morning, Sherlock rose early, fashioning the only Holmes family tradition her enjoyed upholding. He pulled out a broom handle, tying a sprig of mistletoe to the end. Pleased with his handiwork, he laid the stick down, and went to take a shower. The sound of the running water blocked the sound of Molly entering his room.

He walked out, clad only in a towel, and stopped short. "Umm, Molly." He bit his lip, taking in the sight of her. She was languidly draped across his bed, her tight, dark wash jeans, and red jumper accentuating her every curve, his creation in her hand.

When she laid eyes on him, she sat up, ignoring his state of undress, and asked, "Sherlock, what's this?"

He cleared his throat. "It's, um, it's a kissing stick."  
She smiled. "I like it." She stood. "Now, put your clothes on."

* * *

Sherlock exited five minutes later, in his usual black pants, and a red shirt, kissing stick in hand, wielded like a weapon.

Molly snuck up on him, and jumped on his back. "Onward, my love. Down the stairs!"

Laughing, Sherlock carried her down, the stick held at arm's length like a jousting spear. They snuck up behind Molly's parents and dangled the stick about their head.

"Ooh," Olivia squealed, having caught on to the teenagers' shenanigans. "Mummy! Daddy! You're under the mistletoe."

The two adults looked up, and rolled their eyes affectionately at the teens. THe leaned in and gave each other a quick peck. "Who's idea was this?"  
"Sherlock's." Mr. and Mrs. Hooper smiled. Suddenly, Olivia ran under the stick. "I want a Tisentine smooch!"

Putting Molly down, Sherlock scooped the little girl up and pecked her on the cheek. "Happy Tisentine, Olivia Hooper." The seven year old giggled, and Sherlock gently set her back on her feet.

Molly dragged him to her side, giving him a smacking kiss on his cheek, very close to his mouth. "You are the sweetest," she whispered, smirking as she watched the blush run up his neck.

* * *

After breakfast, Molly's grandparents arrived. They were very sweet people. Margie and Joe, as they insisted later that Sherlock call them, handed out hugs and kisses as soon as they were in the door.

"Oh, Molly! This must be Sherlock! It's great to meet you sweetheart," Margie exclaimed.

"Likewise, Margie."  
Joe spotted the stick. "Ah. Have you gotten much use out of that young man?"

Sherlock grinned. "Spreading holiday joy to one and all." Then, smiling like the devil, he pulled the stick up above Margie and Joe's head. The two pecked each other on the lips.

Olivia tugged on her grandmother's trouser leg. "Can we make the gingy houses, now?"  
Scooping her granddaughter up, Margie replied, "Of course, darling. Sherlock, Molly, would you like to help?"

Sherlock looked a bit apprehensive, but Molly nodded. "Come on, Sherlock. Baking's not that hard."

He sighed. "Alright."

* * *

Three hours later, there were two new additions to the Hooper home, thanks to the SOMM construction company, as Margie dubbed them.

Olivia and Margie had constructed a quintessentially cute and traditional house.

Sherlock and Molly had constructed a half-inch scale model of St. Bartholomew's Hospital.

"Bit macabre for Christmas, don't you think?"  
"Grandma," Molly replied, "if we live in London, both Sherlock and my intended careers will likely lead us to St. Bart's."

Margie ruffled Sherlock and Molly's hair. "I'm just ragging on you both. I think it's lovely."

Just then, Mr. Hooper and Joe entered. "Wow. Those gingerbread houses look fantastic."

Just then, Sherlock's phone buzzed. "Sherlock, Skype, NOW! - JW"

He grinned. "Molly, can we use your laptop?" She nodded. He grabbed Molly's hand and dragged her upstairs.

"Hey, where are we going?"

Sherlock stopped. "I'm sorry to steal Molly, but my best friend wants to Skype me to tell me that his girlfriend accepted his proposal."

* * *

As soon as the connection was made, Mary and Molly screamed, gleeful to see each other again. Mary held her left hand up to the screen, displaying an elegant diamond ring.

"Oh my gosh," Molly exclaimed, feigning surprise. "That is gorgeous. John did well. I'm so happy for you Mary!"

John edged into the frame. "Hey, Sherlock. Molly."

"John," Sherlock informed him, "I think the girls' screams broke the speed of sound. I'm still partially deaf."

"Har-har," Mary retorted.

"Yeah, very funny," Molly supplied.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "How's Christmas in the Watson household?"

"Great! You?"  
"Wonderful!"

* * *

A while later, John and Mary had to log off, but not before they'd also met the entire Hooper household.

"John and Mary seem nice," Mrs. Hooper mused.

"Bit young to be marrying, though," Mr. Hooper said. His apprehension to getting married so young had been made very apparent.

"Oh, tush," Margie argued. "Joe and I were married before we were seventeen."

"Besides," Molly supplied. "If they're married before they get their degrees, they won't have to worry about changing names on licenses."  
Mr. Hooper rolled his eyes. "So, you should get married now, to avoid potential legal issues?"  
"No, but dad…"

"No buts. I don't want you to have legal trouble. Sherlock, hope you have a ring ready."

"Both of you, stop it." Mrs. Hooper put a hand on her husband's shoulder.

The tension in the room was thicker than pea soup. Finally, the timer on the pizza (a Hooper family tradition) dinged.

"Pizza," Olivia squealed. Everyone chuckled at the second grader's antics.

"It's funny how a disagreement always accompanies this Christmas Eve pizza. It's like 'Home Alone'."

"What's 'Home Alone'," Sherlock asked.

Everyone gasped. "You've never seen 'Home Alone'?"

"No."  
"Living room. Now."

* * *

While the Hooper clan thoroughly enjoyed the film, Sherlock struggled to keep his mouth shut. While funny, Kevin's antics would prove lethal to the two thugs. When Sherlock told Molly as such, she whispered, "It's just a movie, Sherlock."

He grinned, "I know. I know."

* * *

The next day, Molly rose bright and early. wanting to look perfect on Christmas. This was something she'd done every Christmas since puberty, as Great-Aunt Marisol was always criticizing something about her. However, this year, she was dressing up for Sherlock. She pulled out the dress she'd bought at the end of Christmas break last year. It was read and fairly close fitting. I was reasonably modest, hanging to her knees, with long sleeves, the just capped her shoulders, leading to a scoop neck that showed off her collarbones nicely.

Molly swept her hair off her neck into an elegant ponytail. She didn't bother with makeup, knowing she'd probably botch it anyway.

She stepped out of her room, steeling herself for the arrival of the family. Sherlock appeared at her side. "You look beautiful."

Molly blushed. "Thank you. You look pretty dashing yourself."  
Sherlock did look flawless in his black suit, the crisp, white shirt making even his alabaster complexion appear slightly flushed.

He offered her his arm. "Shall we? Your family's just arrived."

Molly sucked in a deep breath, and looped her arm in his. "Let's do this thing."  
The descended the stairs, and as her entire family turned to look up at the two, Molly imagined herself a princess making the grand entrance to a state ball, her handsome prince at her side.

* * *

As soon as the two were down the stairs, Molly was accosted by Great-Aunt Marisol. "Margaret, look at you! You look so tired! Why didn't you paint your face? It's a wonder you managed to snag a beau at all."

"Sherlock happens to like my face without paint, Aunt," Molly said, annoyed that her great-aunt had ruined the magic of the moment.

Marisol rolled her eyes. "You're more foolish that I thought if you believe that hogwash."

Molly's fingers tightened on Sherlock's arm. Luckily, Molly was saved from her great-aunt's cruelty by her cousins bounding in. "Molly!"

Molly caught a twin in each arm. "Merry Christmas," they chorused in unison.

"Merry Christmas."

Ben eyed Sherlock. "Who's that?"  
Molly grinned. "This is my boyfriend, Sherlock."  
The twins giggled. "Molly has a boyfriend," Ben teased.

"Does she, now," A gruff voice asked. Molly gasped. "Uncle Martin! Aunt Lara!" She embraced the two. Stepping back, she gestured to Sherlock. "This is my boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both."

Martin and Lara smiled. "The pleasure is ours."  
"Everyone! Get in here! Don't lurk in doorways," Mrs. Hooper called.

They all retreated to the sitting room.

* * *

**A/N: I know it's very short. I'm working on making longer chapters. It's hard on the weekends because my time is not my own. I hope you all liked that one, and like Molly's family (except for Marisol). Please give me reviews (I love those). Also feel free to PM me.**


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Again, I apologize for the short chapters. I don't have as much time on the weekends, and today especially. I have to go to a family reunion. Sorry. I'm rambling aren't I? Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Love you! x

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock/

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Hooper flitted about, constantly making sure everyone was comfortable, refilling glasses, and being sociable hosts

Margie and Joe sat with Ben and Loo on their laps. Ethel, or "Grandmother," and Marisol sat refined, both knitting and scolding.

Sherlock sat with Molly perched on his knees, his gaze on her family, cold and calculating. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "If you're going to deduce my family, you could at least entertain me."

Sherlock grinned. "I was just finding faults with Marisol."

"Such as?"  
"She suffers rheumatism, though that's fairly obvious from her hands. She lives with her sister, as she was never married. Likely, she used to be a nice person, though plain. She grew bitter toward anyone better looking than and with better relationships that her. Hence why she harasses you."

"It's not hard to be better looking than her."

He smirked. Marisol's piercing gaze fell on the teens. "What are you two grinning at?"  
"Nothing," Molly sang. She whispered to Sherlock. "I'll be right back."  
She ran upstairs and grabbed the kissing stick.

Sneaking up behind Martin and Lara, Molly dangled the stick over their heads. "Look who's under the mistletoe," Sherlock sang.

The two blushed and kissed.

Marisol scoffed, which did not get past Sherlock. He pulled the stick from Molly's hand and ran to Marisol's side. Holding the stick above his head, he pressed a smacking kiss to the old bat's cheek.

She gasped, horrified. "Such shenanigans!"

Sherlock snickered. "Come on Molly. Bring Olivia."

"Can we come," Ben and Loo chorused. Sherlock looked to their parents, who nodded assent.

"Sherlock, where are we going," Molly asked.

"Out."

"What are we doing?"  
He grinned wickedly. "Shenanigans."

* * *

Sherlock helped Molly bundle up her sister and cousins. Leading them outside, Molly gasped to see a perfect Winter Wonderland. She bent down to scoop a handful of snow, and threw it in the air, creating her own little flurry. Just then, a chunk of snow hit Molly square on the side of the head. Molly's head whipped around to see Sherlock grinning.

"Hi," he said, wiggling his fingers at her.

She scowled, leaning down to scoop up more snow. She then lobbed it at Sherlock, hitting it square in the mouth.

"You little witch," he spat through a mouthful of snow.

Ben, Loo, and Olivia giggled. "She got you good, Sherlock."  
"Yes, and she's going to get it next."

Olivia gasped. "Watch out, Molly!"

Molly whirled around, and called to her sister and cousins, "Get him!"

The three children trapped Sherlock's legs in their arms, knocking him into a snowdrift. "Hey, this is blackmail! No fair!"

By then, Molly had filled her arms with a pile of snow. "Revenge is a dish best served cold."

She dumped it on his head.

Sherlock shook his head like a dog, clearing the snow from his face, revealing an award winning pout.

"Aww, do we have a sore loser?"

Sherlock snorted. "Just help me up." Molly reached down to help him up, only to have Sherlock kick her feet out from under her, landing her in the snowdrift next to him. Molly gasped indignantly. "That wasn't nice, Sherlock."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't resist. Let me help you up."

He stood, taking her hands, pulling her to her feet. Her foot slipped on some ice, and she crashed into Sherlock's chest. She inhaled sharply, as her face was suddenly inches from Sherlock's. Specifically, the fact that their lips were approximately an inch-and-a-half apart. Just then, Mrs. Hooper called, "Kids, dinner's ready."

Molly exhaled slowly, cleared her throat, and stepped back. "C'mon. We should go."

"Yeah."

* * *

Miraculously, dinner went off without a hitch. It was time to open presents.

The adults had a rule that they didn't buy anything for each other. Only the children received gifts. Molly sat in the middle of the floor, amongst her cousins and sister, and a mess of wrapping paper. Occasionally, she would look up and send a smile Sherlock's way, but she couldn't keep eye contact, as Sherlock's penetrating gaze was making her stomach do flips.

Finally, all the gifts had been passed out, and it was very late. Ben, Loo, and Olivia were practically dead on their feet, and so their parents took them up and put them to bed. Molly's grandparents had gone to bed hours ago.

At last, Molly and Sherlock were alone in front of the glowing embers in the fireplace. Molly gently sat on his knee. She ran a hand through his hair, and rested her forehead on his. "Hey, you."

He smiled. "Hello."

"I have something for you." She stood and picked up a box next to the fireplace. She returned and set it in his lap. "Well, go on. Open it."

He slowly pulled the lid off the box, and raised a brow at the blue fabric. "You got me a…"

Molly rolled her eyes, and pulled it out of the box, revealing it to be a scarf. She looped it around his neck.

"I got you a scarf. Do you like it?"  
He nodded. "Of course I do. Would you like your gift now?"

She nodded and swung her hair over one shoulder. "What is it?"

He held up a black jewelry box. She took it out of his hand, and lifted the lid.

"Oh, Sherlock," she breathed. It was a necklace with a pendant in the shape of an anatomically accurate heart. The pendant was about the size of the indentation in the palm of her hand.

"Do you like it? If you don't I could-" He was cut short by Molly throwing her arms around his neck.

"I love it. Thank you. You shouldn't have."

Sherlock took the necklace from her hand and clasped it around her neck. "There. You look lovely."

Molly blushed and looked down at her hands in her lap. When she looked back up, Sherlock's pupils were blown out, and Molly was reminded of the morning on the roof. The flip-flop in her stomach returned, and Molly felt her heartbeat spike. Suddenly, she found herself on her feet. "Yes, well, thank you." She began to walk quickly to the staircase.

"Molly," she heard behind her. She slowly turned around. "Yes, Sherlock?"

"I...look on the back of the heart."

Molly narrowed her eyes, and pulled the pendant up in front of her. "Je t'aime," she read. "I don't...I don't speak French."

Sherlock bit his lip. "It, uh, it means...it means 'I love you'." He stepped close, and reached down to cup her cheek, his eyes searching her face for a reaction.

Molly's face burned crimson. "Je t'aime."

"Je t'aime, Molly Hooper." He leaned toward her, and finally, with no unwanted interruptions, pressed his lips against hers.

Initially, Molly's eyes became like saucers, and her whole body froze. When the shock wore off, Molly closed her eyes, and reached up to tangle her fingers in Sherlock's hair.

When they pulled apart, there was a pregnant pause, which triggered snickers from the two.

Sherlock bit his lip. "Do you...do you want to watch a movie?"

Molly smiled. "Sure." She grabbed his hand, leading him to her room.

* * *

A/N: GAH! I know it was short, but I didn't want to let you go all weekend update-less. I probably won't be able to update till Monday. Anyway, I do hope you are enjoying our adventure together, and please review and PM. Lots of love! xxx


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I live! Hey, all my lovelies! So this is unlucky Chapter 13. Dun dun DUNNNNN! I feel as though this will be the defining chapter as to whether this story will sink or swim. Also, introducing...MYSTRADE! I don't why I support this ship, I just do. Anywho, this chapter earned it's teen rating, because of talk of teen drinking, but like I said, this will never be a smutty tale. So, I hope you enjoy. I am fixing Chapter 14, and it may be up later today. If not, you get three chapters tomorrow. Love you all. xxx

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. All rights to BBC, Mofftiss and ACD. I don't own Mean Girls or Titanic either.

* * *

The next morning, the sun shone in on two teenagers, asleep in each others arms, still clothed in their Christmas finery, with the TV still on, the menu to 'Mean Girls' still showing on the screen.

Mr. Hooper woke, and heard the TV. He shook his wife awake. "Darling, do you hear something?"

She stretched. "Sounds like Molly's TV."

"C'mon. Let's go see what she's up to."

The two adults walked to their daughter's room, and slowly opened the door.

Mr. Hooper walked over and turned off the TV, and then turned to glare at his daughter's still sleeping form.

Mrs. Hooper hugged her husband's arm. "Oh! They're so sweet!"  
He grunted in displeasure. "Yes, well…"

"Oh, stop it. They're cute."

"Hmmph. Whatever you say, darling." They tiptoed out of the room.

* * *

Molly was woken by the sunlight shining directly in her eyes. She rolled over, only to find that instead of cushy mattress, there was a hard object. She slowly opened her eyes to see Sherlock's chest. She smiled, and reached up to ruffle his curls. "Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up."  
Sherlock blearily blinked his eyes. "Good morning, love. Happy Boxing Day."

Molly grinned. "This means that we do nothing in the Hooper household."  
Sherlock snickered. "Ahh, blessed laziness."

* * *

Later that day, when Molly and Sherlock were watching "Titanic," Molly leaned over, and laid her head on Sherlock's shoulder. "You know what I was thinking? This is our final year as 'kids.' New Year's is in a week. We should totally do something fun. Fun and crazy."

"What kind of fun and crazy? Like, skydiving fun and crazy, or potentially drunken party fun and crazy?"  
"Potentially drunken party. Like, you, me, John, Mary, and Greg rent a hotel suite or something in New York City on New Year's Eve. Is that too weird? Too scary?"  
Sherlock grinned. "I never thought I'd hear such a suggestion come out of your mouth."

"You don't like it?"

"I love it. I don't think you should tell your parents about the potentially drunken part, though."

Molly grinned.

Sherlock pulled his phone out. "You text John and Greg, I'll call my brother and make the arrangements."

"Done."

* * *

Molly burst into the room. "Mary, John, and Greg are all in. Their parents have no problems, and I just checked with mine, and they're alright with us going!"

Sherlock ran over and hugged Molly tightly. "Brilliant. You don't have any problems with Mycroft coming along, do you?"

Molly shook her head. "Why should I be opposed to our benefactor joining us?"

Sherlock shrugged. Just then, Mr. and Mrs. Hooper knocked on the door. "Come in," Molly called.

"If you're going to go on this...excursion, then I need to know three things," Mr. Hooper began.

"One: Who is the responsible adult in charge of this operation, Two: Will there be alcohol at this get together, and Three: Will everyone have their own bed?"

Molly's breath caught, but Sherlock covered for her. "My older brother Mycroft will be there, I think that we might have a glass of champagne each at midnight, and the ladies are sharing a room."

Mr. Hooper nodded. "I can live with that. Also, I want to let you know that we love you both very much and want you to have a good time."

Sherlock and Molly grinned. "Okay."

"Okay." The adults left the room, and Molly rounded on Sherlock. "You just lied to my parents!"  
"No, I..left out some parts. Mycroft is considered to be a responsible adult in most social circles. We _might_ have a glass of champagne at midnight. I left out that Myc may have made sure the mini bar was stocked. And technically, you two are sharing a room at Appledore. I never said that you were sharing the room at the hotel."

Molly's eyes widened. "Mary and I aren't sharing a room at the hotel?"  
Sherlock shrugged. "You can if you want."

Molly reached up to tangl her fingers in his hair. "I think we both know that Mary and I would much rather share a room with you boys. We share a room every day. 'Course, this does leave poor Greg and Myc in an awkward situation."

All of a sudden, Sherlock snorted with laughter.

"What's so funny?"  
Through his laughter, Sherlock replied, "My brother is gay."

Molly began chortling as well. "Poor Greg. Someone better warn him."

Sherlock wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. "To be honest, I don't think he'll mind."

Molly cocked a brow. "What do you mean?"

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Greg's gonna kill me for telling you."

Molly's eyes widened. "No. How long have you known?"

"Since last year. He swore me to secrecy. He thinks his father won't approve." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

Her face fell. "That's so sad. I can't imagine not being able to be completely honest with my parents."

Sherlock looked at her in confusion. "You just let me lie to their faces."

Molly bit her lip. "Well, there is that."

He grinned. "C'mon, you little rebel. We have to do some packing."

* * *

The three days passed in the blink of an eye. Soon Sherlock and Molly were bidding the entire family goodbye.

"Thank you for having me," Sherlock told Molly's parents.

Mrs. Hooper kissed both his cheeks. "Come back anytime. You're part of the family now. Tell your parents and brother that we'd love to meet them."

"Of course."  
"C'mon, Sherlock, we'll be late," Molly urged.

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, I'm coming."

"Love you all," Molly called over her shoulder.

They stepped into the car Myc provided to take them to the airport. When the door closed, Molly murmured, "I can't believe we're doing this!"

"I can't believe you suggested it."

* * *

Sherlock and Molly gleefully jumped out of the car. Just then, a man in approximately his early twenties appeared.

"Appears the diet's actually working this time, Myc. You've lost twenty pounds."

The man smiled wryly. "I seem to lack the time to eat, now that I'm at law school."

Sherlock grinned. "Myc, may I introduce my girlfriend, Molly Hooper."

He took her hand in his. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Molly."  
Molly giggled, thinking back to baby Maricroft. "And I you, Myc."

Just then, a taxi cab carrying John and Mary arrived. Molly squealed, running over to properly inspect her best friend's shiny new ring. John rushed over to hug his raven-haired roomie.

"Congratulations on your engagement, John," Mycroft supplied.

The sandy-haired boy grinned. "Thanks, Myc."

Everyone turned to watch a motorbike screech to a halt. Off stepped Greg Lestrade, clad in a leather jacket and dark wash blue jeans. Immediately, Sherlock was aware that his brother was intently watching the newcomer. He smirked, and called Greg over. As the boy approached, he pulled his helmet off, revealing his silver hair.

"Hey, Sherlock!" He pulled the raven-haired boy into his arms.

"Hi, Greg." When he was released, he stepped over to Myc. "Greg, I'd like to introduce my brother, Mycroft. Myc, this is Greg Lestrade."

Greg took the hand Myc offered, and looked up into his eyes. The other four noticed that something definitely passed between the two. Especially when the two seemed to forget the presence of the other four, and forgot to let go of the other's hand.

John stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Well," Mycroft said, clearing his throat and reluctantly removing his hand from Greg's, and gesturing towards the private jet. "Shall we?"

* * *

A/N: Did you like it? If you did, you should review or PM me! Also, I hope the way I approached Mystrade was okay. If you're wondering, Sherlock is laughing when he realizes Myc and Greg will share a room because I decided that Sherlock always harbored the belief that if Greg and Myc were to ever meet, they'd hit it off right away, and as it turns out, he was right. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I would love me some reviews or PMs. Love you all. xxx


	14. Chapter 14

Today is your lucky day! You got Chapter 14, and it's the longest one yet! This is where the teen drinking comes in. If I am wrong in anything revolving around the drinking, well, that's because I can't legally drink, and even the smell makes me terribly sick. Anyway, this chapter details the New Year's shenanigans. I hope you enjoy, my lovelies.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. All rights belong to BBC, Mofftiss, and Sir ACD. I don't own any of the songs mentioned in this chapter, and I don't own Star Trek.

* * *

When they were well on their way to America, Molly began to fidget.

"What's the matter, love," Sherlock asked.

"Sometimes, I feel like I want a soundtrack to my life, so I can dance when ever. Especially when I have a song that fits the situation perfectly."

"Which song we you thinking of?"  
"Well, you've got the aspiring government official with his slightly sociopathic tendencies and ridiculous deductive skills, and the biker dude-slash-aspiring detective inspector, who have the hots for each other. Totally adorable, by the way. You've got the self-proclaimed high-functioning sociopath of a detective, his aspiring pathologist girlfriend, his aspiring soldier-slash-doctor-slash-adrenaline junkie bestie, and the bestie's girlfriend, who seems to be the only normal one of the six of us."

"Sorry, Mary's trained in all forms of self-defense, is a deadly shot, and has a photographic memory. She's as freakish as the rest of us."

Molly grinned. "That's what I'm talking about. By the worlds standards, we're a bunch of freaks." She stood and plugged her iPod into the stereo. "Raise Your Glass" by P!nk began to play. Molly pulled Sherlock to his feet. "Dance with me!"  
The two bopped through the first lines, and then Mary dragged John up. "Random dancing," she squealed.

Greg and Myc both awkwardly sat, not daring to ask the other to dance. It wasn't until the second verse that Molly grabbed Greg and Sherlock grabbed his brother, and they threw the two into each others arms.

"Let loose, Myc!"

"Freak out, Greg!"  
Blushing, the boys joined the circle, bumping hips shyly. Sherlock winked at the two of them. And thus, the six teens created the world's smallest mosh pit, right there on the airplane.

* * *

Molly's random urge to dance had loosened the six of them up considerably. If music was alcohol, then all them were drunk. Eventually, Molly's iPod had died, so the teens continued their little party by Sherlock burning rosin on his violin, and Molly and Mary crooning various songs as loudly as they could. Finally, the captain yelled over the PA: "Please take your seats and buckle up. Landing."

* * *

When they landed, the girls squealed to see that Mycroft had arranged for a stretch limo to pick them up.

"Myc, you're the best," Molly exclaimed.

He smiled. "I try."

* * *

The limo had three sunroofs. Molly whispered in Mary's ear.

"Crank the heat, crank the tunes, and open the roofs," Mary ordered. When the roofs were open, Mary yanked John up to his feet, their heads and shoulders sticking through. The other four followed suit, both because they wanted to, and because the radio, which was blasting "Good Time," was unbearably loud in the confines of the vehicle.

"Sing along, New York," Molly called.

The teens got deafening cheers from the passerby, and many of them sang along with them.

Molly laughed and threw her arms about Sherlock's neck, leaning in to kiss him soundly.

"Je t'aime, Sherlock!"

"Je t'aime, Molly!"

They checked into the hotel, which was close to Times Square. Myc had secured a penthouse for them. It had three bedroom suites, a living area, a kitchen, and a balcony, which had entrances to each bedroom and to the living room.

"Myc, this is wonderful," John commented.

"Good. I had some of the best selections from the liquor cabinet sent over."

Sherlock smirked. "You had dad's scotch and whiskey sent over didn't you?"  
"I don't see you complaining."

Greg walked straight over to to the minibar. "I'm all for scotch on the rocks."

John, Mary, and Molly went to arrange their rooms, while Myc took his brother into his room.

"Greg seems...nice," Mycroft began. He cleared his throat.

Sherlock smiled and placed a hand on his brother's shoulders. "Myc, if you're asking my permission, then you know what my answer's going to be. I fully support you."

Myc smiled. "Thank you, for that, Sherlock. It's just… I've always said that sentiment is a chemical defect."

Sherlock laughed. "I can't believe I'm saying this. You're wrong, Mycroft. I think that there are some times in life when we must be careful that our emotional ties do not cloud our judgements. I've also learned that life isn't worth living without love."

"So you're saying I should go for it?"

Sherlock nodded.

Mycroft nodded. "You go on ahead. I'll finish here."

* * *

Sherlock walked out to find that Greg was pensively sipping on his scotch.

"Look, Sherlock."  
The raven-haired boy rolled his eyes. "I just had this conversation with my brother. You have my blessing and I think you should go for it."

Greg grinned. "You know, if that consulting detective gig doesn't work out, you'd make a hell of a psychic."

The boys began to laugh, when the other four exited the rooms.

"Do we get to hear the joke," Molly inquired.

Greg took another sip of scotch. "Nothing much. Just that your boyfriend's a psychic."

Sherlock assumed a mystical look. "I know all, and see all."

Molly laughed. "According to Meena, you made a thousand pounds pretending to be psychic."  
Sherlock coughed. "One thousand and forty-three."

* * *

Greg poured a scotch for everyone. Of course, the boys drank the scotch like old pros. Mary, though she was new to scotch, also sipped on the drink like a champ.

Molly eyed the beverage pensively. "Never had a scotch before," Sherlock asked, smirking into his tumbler. Molly blushed, and took a sip. Her face scrunched in a look of disgust.

"Not a fan," Myc quipped.

Molly shook her head, and held her tumbler out to Sherlock. "Here you take it."

He grinned, and drank it. Molly walked into the kitchen, and spotted a wine rack. "Ah, this is more my speed." She pulled out a bottle of Merlot, and tapped her chin. "You know what would go nicely with this Merlot? Some Chinese takeaway."

Mary chuckled, "I'm in. Someone find the phonebook."

* * *

They called down to the concierge, asking them to send someone to get their takeaway.

When it arrived, the teens chowed down, each downing at least two glasses of Merlot with their lo mein.

"Not quite like home, is it," Greg asked.

"Well, it's food, so I'm not complaining," Myc answered.

Sherlock snorted. "You never complain about food, Myc."

Myc scowled at him. "Well, I'm sorry that I enjoy all facets of the culinary arts."

"Like cake," Sherlock retorted.

"Yes, like cake," Myc replied indignantly.

A grin crept onto Greg's face. "What's your favorite kind of cake? Mine's marble."

Myc gasped. "Really? Mine is too."

Greg's grin had become slightly more manic. "You know what I'm hungry for now? Marble cake!" He ran over, picked up the phone, and and dialed the number for room service. "Yeah room service? Can we get some marble cake up here?"

Myc grabbed the phone out of his hand. "And perhaps some caramel Cadbury eggs if it's not too much trouble."  
Sherlock chuckled. "Great. The Sweet Tooth Twins."

While the two bantered back and forth about what sweets they wanted, Sherlock and John went over to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine for Molly, and another tumbler of scotch for everyone else.

* * *

In the time it took for the teens to empty their glasses again, the bellboy arrived with Mycroft and Greg's sweeties.

Mycroft, even though his tolerance for scotch was high, as he had a glass every night, was still a little bit more than tipsy, and was in good cheer when he opened the door.

The bellboy had given Mycroft, who was more than a little tipsy when he opened the door, a suspicious look, but Myc had provided a generous enough tip for him to keep his mouth shut.

Myc, with Greg in tow, dragged the cart over to the teens.

In the meantime, Mary and Molly had been perusing Netflix, and decided on "Star Trek: Into Darkness."  
"That Kirk is to die for. Meow," Mary sang.

Molly raised a brow. "I don't know. Khan's pretty dreamy." She rolled her tongue.

"Hey, we're right here." John pouted, gesturing to himself and Sherlock.

"Aww," Mary snarked. "Feeling jealous?"

John scoffed. "Of him? You'll have to up the ante."  
Mary smirked. "What about Spock?"

John's face fell. Greg whistled. "She's got you there, Johnny boy. Spock is...whoo boy."

"Hey," Myc whined a bit. Greg smiled and shoved a piece of chocolate in his mouth, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "He's got nothing on you, Myc."

Sherlock smirked, elbowing Molly and eyeing the pair. Molly giggled.

"You know," Mary said, "I really think that Benadryl Cucumberman, or whatever his name is, really looks like Sherlock."

Molly nodded. "You're right. Sherlock's a dead ringer for him."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I do not look like that!"

Molly grinned. "Yes, you do."

* * *

When the movie ended, they found a news channel so that they could watch the ball drop. Then Mary and Molly found a radio station playing American "oldies," inciting another dance party. This dance party was much more wild than the one on the plane had been. Despite the cold New York winter outside, the teens worked up quite the sweat, dancing like their lives depended on it. Combine this with the level of alcohol that had been consumed that night, and you get six teens who have no qualms about stripping off their clothing.

Mary stripped off her tights, shoes, and blouse, leaving her in her tank top and mini skirt. John stripped off his shirt, and ended up clad only in his corduroys.

Myc had his tie hung around his head, and his button-down shirt hung open, his jacket neglected on the floor. Greg was devoid of both his jacket and his t-shirt.

Molly had on only her leggings and a camisole. Sherlock, well Molly, had removed his shirt, leaving him in only his jeans.

At 11:59, the stereo was blasting Frankie Valli's "Oh What a Night." The six of them had been basically moshing all night. When this song began, Greg held a hand out to Myc. "Care to dance love?"

Myc bit his lip, and blushed, taking Greg's hand.

Greg placed one hand on Myc's waist, pulling Myc's hips tight against his, and grasping one of Myc's hands with the other. Greg then led the two in a small circle.

John grabbed Mary's hands and pulled her body flush against his, swaying side to side.

Sherlock opened his arms to Molly. She squealed ever so slightly, and ran to him jumping up in his arms. He swung her around before setting her back on her feet.

Suddenly, the kids reverie was broken by the shouts of the countdown, "Ten...nine...eight...seven...six.."

The six kids ran out to the balcony, leaning over the railing to watch the ball drop, and chanting along with the crowd below. "Five...four...three...two...one...HAPPY NEW YEAR!"  
The teens cheered loudly,

Myc shyly pecked Greg on the lips, and pulled away, his cheeks crimson. Greg grinned and pulled him back for a real and proper kiss.

Mary didn't give John a chance to kiss her; she'd already pulled him into their room.

Molly turned and grinned at Sherlock. She couldn't recall seeing his grin quite so wide, and in that instant was compelled to kiss his smiling mouth.

She reached a hand up to tangle in his raven curls, pulling his mouth down to meet hers. Sherlock looped his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet. Molly squeaked, and smiled into the kiss. She pulled away long enough to whisper, "Je t'aime."

* * *

A/N: Did you like it? I hope you did. I couldn't resist mentioning Star Trek. This is a big ball of cheese, but it's how all my New Year's go, but instead of alcohol, we drink soda suicides created by yours truly! I am the only one who can make one that tastes like bubblegum (which is disgusting to actually drink, but still highly impressive). And I've never had anyone to kiss at midnight. Oh well. I have a busy week this week, but I will try to update ASAP. In the meantime, please review or PM me. If you want to follow me on Tumblr, my screen name is peanutbuttersnickerdoodles. Weird, I know, but I was really hungry when I made my Tumblr. Love you all! xx


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: I return! I do hope you lovelies enjoy this chapter, that sort of lacks a plot. This chapter, in it's awkward lack of direction, perfectly represents the awkward transition back into school after the winter break. Anyway, I hope you like this. I'm having a harder time updating, as I've run out of prewritten material.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. All rights belong to the BBC, Mofftiss, and Sir ACD.

* * *

Greg hadn't slept at all that night. He and Myc had lain across the bed holding hands, and simply talking until Myc finally fell asleep around six in the morning. For the next hour and a half, Greg had stared at the ceiling, feeling guilty that he'd been lying to his father for years. Carefully, so as not to wake Myc, Greg crept out of the room and into the kitchen, pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing his father's number along the way.

"Dad?"

"Greg? It's early. I figured you'd still be asleep after partying last night. What's the matter?"  
Greg cleared his throat. "I...Dad, I've met someone."

"That's great, son! What's her name?"  
Greg inhaled deeply, steeling himself for the worst. "_His_ name is Mycroft. He's Sherlock's older brother."

There was silence on the other end. Greg felt the tears well in his eyes, and fought back a sob. "Dad, I'm sorry."

"For what," his dad said finally, chuckling. "Son, I've known you were gay since you were thirteen. I'm just surprised it took you this long to tell me."

"You're not, I don't know, disappointed?"

"Of course not! I'm so proud of you, and all the wonderful things you've accomplished! As long as Mycroft loves you and you love him, I'm happy. I love you so much."

Greg grinned. "I love you, too, dad."

"I'll see you soon, son."

"Bye."

Greg hung up, and was surprised to find Mycroft behind him. Myc took Greg into his arms. "How did he take it?"

"He wasn't upset. He said he's known since I was thirteen."

Myc smiled. "I'm glad." He paused. "Would you like to meet my parents? I have them on Skype."

Greg nodded. "I'd love that."

* * *

Sherlock woke up upon hearing a voice he immediately recognized as his mother's.

"Myc, we're so glad you're happy. Greg, it's a pleasure to welcome you to the family."

"Thank you, ma'am," Greg replied bashfully.

"Myc, call us again soon. We have a bingo tournament. And tell Sherlock to call us. We miss him, and have yet to meet his Molly."

"I will mum. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Sherlock grinned and stepped out of his room. "Should I expect a happy announcement in the post?"

Myc scowled. "You'd be lucky to even attend."

Greg ruffled Myc's hair. "Don't listen to him, Sherlock. He loves you, even if he never tells you so."

Myc pouted. "Speak for yourself, Gregory."

"Aww, but Myc-y! He's your baby brother."

Myc scowl grew darker, but the look he threw to Sherlock had just a hint of affection behind it. "My own personal terror, is more like it."

"Harhar. Very funny."

Just then, Molly exited the bedroom, yawning. "Good morning."  
Sherlock walked over, dropping a kiss on her lips. "Morning, love. Tired are we?"

Molly nodded. "A little. We were up late last night."  
"Doing what," Mary said devilishly from behind her, poking a finger into each of Molly's sides.

Molly squealed, jumping up in terror. "Mary Elizabeth Morstan! Don't you ever do that again!"

Mary giggled. "I'm sorry. No wait, I'm not."

Molly glowered. "Lucky for me, I know your weak spot." She shot a hand forward, tickling her friend's ribs.

"No," Mary screamed. "Not the ribs!" She took off like a bat out of hell, blasting past her boyfriend, and running in her room, Molly hot on her tail.

The door slammed behind the two girls, and John raised an eyebrow at the three other boys. "What was that?"

Greg shrugged, as he munched on a doughnut left over from last night. "Women."

* * *

Mary collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily. "I forgot how fast you can run."

Molly stood, bent over, her hands on her knees, panting. "That's me. The Speed Demon."

"Okay," Mary said, "Did you know Greg was gay?"

"Only as of three days ago. Apparently, Sherlock was the only one to know."

Mary nodded and then grinned evilly. "So, uh, anything good happen between you and your man?"

Molly raised an eyebrow. "Really, Mary? Is there anything you think of besides that?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "C'mon. I want to know if you _celebrated_?"

"Not how you're thinking."

Mary groaned. "Really? Tell me you at least gave him more than a peck on the lips."

Molly blushed. "There may have been some highly intense snogging."

The blonde squealed. "Is he any good?"  
Molly shrugged. "I don't have any basis for comparison, but if you ask me, his skill level should be illegal."

Mary's eyes widened. "That's something I'd never expect to hear about Sherlock Holmes. Of course, I'll be surprised if you two round second base, so…"

Molly held a finger to her friend's lips. "Look, I promise when it happens, you'll be the first to know."

"You had better. I don't want to find out because John found out first."

* * *

The boys had dug out some of the Chinese leftovers, reheating them and scarfing down the remains. The smell of food had wafted to the girls, and they exited the room. "You had better have saved some for us," Mary threatened.

The boys guiltily looked down at the mostly empty containers, and grinned sheepishly at the ladies.

Molly rolled her eyes. "Figures. Oh well. We'll just eat their marble cake." She walked over and cut two very large slices of the pastry.

She and Mary slowly ate the cake, overdramatically moaning at the flavor of the cake.

"Okay. We get it," Myc finally said. "Ladies call dibs on the leftovers."

The teens had to leave New York that day, so they could be home in time for the beginning of the semester.

The plane ride home was far quieter than the ride to New York.

No words were spoken amongst the group until they got off the plane. "This is where I leave you," Myc said quietly.

"It's too bad we have to go back to the Academy," Molly mused.

"Yeah," Greg agreed, his hand still firmly grasping Myc's. "It is too bad."  
Myc kissed Greg's cheek. "I promise I'll call."

"Yeah, you better." Myc kissed Greg again, this time on the lips.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Hey, lovebirds, I hate to break up the snogfest, but we have a train to catch. Myc, I'll see you. " He stuck his hand out.

Myc reached out and pulled his brother into a tight hug. "I know I don't say it enough, but I love you, little brother."

Sherlock pulled away. "What the hell am I supposed to say to that?"

Myc narrowed his eyes. Sherlock sighed, took a step closer to his brother, and muttered, "I love you, too, Myc."

The older boy smiled. "Don't you have a train to catch?"

* * *

When they finally reached Appledore, Molly flopped down face first on her bed. She took a deep breath and moaned. "I know it makes no sense, but I'm so glad to be back!"

Mary nodded emphatically. "I know what you mean. Ugh, it's been a few days, but I still feel like someone set off a Molotov cocktail in my head."

Molly giggled. "That would be due to the cocktail you ingested. Seriously, love, I think you down an entire bottle of that Merlot."

Mary glowered at her friend. "Hush you. At least I know how to party."

The brunette smirked. "Just because I don't drunk to excess, and have yet to shag my boyfriend doesn't mean I don't know how to party."

The blonde groaned. "You had better give me every sordid detail when you two reach home plate. Seriously, if your relationship was a snail, it would be mocked by the other, faster snails."

"That's really unfair," Molly said. "You've never told me a single thing about you and John."

"You've never asked."

Molly grinned mischievously. "Well, I'm asking now."

Mary squealed in delight.

* * *

John moaned. "Oh, my head."

Greg handed him a bottle of water. "That should help."

"Ugh," John replied. "Thanks."

Sherlock smirked. "That's one hell of a hangover. Lightweight."

John glared. "I'd like to see you do better."

Greg snorted. "I've seen him good and drunk. Don't worry John. He can't do much better."  
"Hey," Sherlock disputed. "I was fourteen, and was drinking vodka."  
John's eyebrows met his hairline. "Why in God's name were you drinking vodka at fourteen."

"Sophomore field trip," Greg answered. "The one you missed. We, well I, bought orange soda for Lock, hoping the caffeine would help him. Some of the guys spiked it, and turned it into a screwdriver."

"You didn't notice it tasted weird?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I did. I drank it anyway because the prof confiscated my cigarettes, and I needed a fix."  
"Ah." John nodded, remembering when his friend was into morphine.

"John. I'm clean. I promise."

"I know."

* * *

Molly's eyes were like saucers. "Mary, I may never be able to look John in the eye."

The blonde snickered. "You asked."

"I didn't know I was getting an anatomy lesson!"

Mary laughed. "Oh, Molly. How're you ever going to be a pathologist?"  
"Hopefully, I won't ever have to perform an autopsy on my friends. I never want to see any of my friends naked."

Mary grinned wickedly. "None?"

"None."

Mary pouted. "Poor Sherlock. That boy's gonna die a virgin."

Molly rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. Specifically, I don't want to see any of you dead on my autopsy slab."

"But you want to see Sherlock naked, right?"  
"No...yes...I mean…" Molly's cheeks flushed.

Mary chuckled wickedly. "I knew there was naughty side to you, Molly Hooper! I bet you have some kinky fantasies involving naked Sherlock, whips and leather, and fuzzy purple handcuffs."

"Fuzzy purple handcuffs," Molly asked slowly. "Mary. Your mind is so warped."

"John seems to appreciate my warped mind."  
Molly's stomach heaved. "Yeah. You told me. I'd rather not relive that horrifying mental image."

Molly had forgotten that John was her compañero in Spanish. She took her seat, trying to locate her notes. John shuffled in late. "Hey, Margarita, sorry. I got caught up."

Molly looked up, and immediately images of Mary's smutty stories flooded to the forefront of her mind, and suddenly Molly didn't know whether to laugh or hurl.

Apparently, this showed on her face, because John asked, "Are you alright, Molly?"  
Flustered, Molly answered, "Uh, yeah, I'm good. Great."

"You sure? You look a little green."

"Oh yeah! Mary, uh, Mary told me a really scary set of stories. They stuck with me, I guess."

John accepted this answer, and turned to his notes.

* * *

In English, the prof let them select their own seats. Molly, of course, chose to sit with Sherlock, Mary with John, and Greg sat between John and Sherlock.

Sherlock leaned over to Molly. "How was Spanish?"  
Molly shivered. "I forgot that I sat next to John."

Sherlock was confused. "Why should John sitting next to you constitute a problem? Did you have a disagreement?"

"No, um…" Molly bit her lip. "Mary's always hounding me for some juicy gossip, and I pointed out that she'd never given me any. Now, I'm sorry I asked."

Sherlock smirked. "Let me guess, she gave you a sordid anatomy lesson."

Molly nodded.

"I think Mary reads a little too many of her smutty novels, and not enough of her textbooks."

"Well, apparently, she's been reading my anatomy book."

* * *

When John returned to Room 221, Sherlock burst out laughing. "What's so funny, Sherlock?"  
Through his chortling, Sherlock informed him of Mary's kinky tales for Molly.

John blushed. "That explains why Molly was so uncomfortable in Spanish today. I can't believe Mary told Molly."

Sherlock grinned. "John, women all trade stories. You have the unfortunate predicament of having a fiancee who takes her storytelling advice from smutty romance novels."

"I feel like I won Molly an apology for Mary's bad behavior."

Sherlock chuckled. "I'm sure Molly will get her revenge on Mary eventually."

John snickered. "As long as I don't hear about it."  
Sherlock feigned surprise. "I thought your one dying wish was to know when I'd rid myself of my pesky virginity."

John scowled. "You know what I mean."

"Oh you mean you wouldn't like to know about my basement full of whips and chains?"  
John's face screwed up in disgust. "Please tell me you're joking."

Sherlock grinned mischievously. "Wouldn't you like to know?

* * *

A/N: Did you like it? If you did, let me know by giving me a review or a PM. They really are encouraging to an author. Love you all. XXX


	16. Author's Note

Hey, my lovelies. I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while. I am really lacking some inspiration and don't know where I want to take this story. If any of you have suggestions, I would really appreciate it. I am working on this, and I hope you will still want to read this story when I do get an actual update up. Love you all! x


	17. Chapter 16

**A/N: I'm back! Finally! Many thanks to the anonymous reviewer who gave me the idea that inspired this chapter. It gets very angsty, this chapter. I'm hoping to create a bit of angst and drama, and then bring back the fluff. I hope you lovelies all enjoy this chapter. **

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. It belongs to BBC, Mofftiss, and Sir ACD.

* * *

Molly walked into the Anatomy lab, her nose wrinkling. Sherlock, who was by her side, asked, "What's the matter, love? Is the formaldehyde smell bothering you?" Though they had finished the fetal pig dissection before winter break, the smell of the preservative still lingered in the air.  
She nodded. "It's not so bad when you are doing a project pertaining to it, but having to smell it all the time is just disgusting."  
He smiled. "Just wait till we dissect the frogs."

Molly made a face. "Remind me again why we need to dissect slimy little amphibians for a human anatomy class."

"Because technically this is a lab, and we've learned the basics of anatomy already."  
Molly sighed. "Do you know the definition of a rhetorical question?"  
"Yes, of course. It is a question asked in order to make a point or be ironic with no answer necessary."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Really? Because I just asked you two, and you answered both of them."

Sherlock reached down and ruffled her hair. "It a compulsion, I can't help it."  
She grinned. "I know."

Sherlock slung an arm over her shoulders. "C'mon."

* * *

Molly hated January. It was the month that to students was like a doldrums to a pirate. Anatomy had been nothing but notetaking. Molly zoned out eventually, and began a list of things she needed to do today.

1) Finish my homework.

2) Eat lunch.

3) Tell Sherlock I love him.

4) Visit Greg in the nurse's office. Poor thing has the flu.

Molly was just about to add "Transfer to a class that's not so boring," when the bell rang.

Molly sped out of class, blasting past Sherlock.

"Whoa, Miss Andretti! Slow down," he called, running after her. "Where are you going?"  
She turned on her heels, and yelled to him, running backwards the entire time, "To Professor Hudson's class to get some chicken soup to bring to Greg in the nurse's office."

"Hold up. I'll come with you." He sped his pace up, catching up to her.

* * *

After visiting Professor Hudson and procuring a thermos full of her chicken soup, and a couple of scones, the duo headed down to the nurse's office.

Molly knocked on the door. "Come on in," the nurse called out.

Sherlock opened the door. "Hey, Greg," Molly said.

The silver-haired boy rolled over, rubbing his eyes, and coughing once. "Hey Molly. Hey Sherlock. Why are you here?"  
Molly held out the thermos and bag of scones. "We thought you might be hungry, so we brought some of Professor Hudson's chicken soup and scones."  
Greg smiled. "Thanks, Molls, but someone already beat you to it." The curtain was pulled back to reveal Mycroft Holmes.

Sherlock raised a brow. "Myc? What are you doing here?"  
"Greg is ill and I am caring for him. I thought that was fairly obvious."

"Isn't that why the nurse is here?"  
"Little brother, tell me. If Molly were down with the flu, would you leave her side?"

Sherlock looked at his feet. "No," he answered sheepishly.

"I didn't think so. Now off you go. No sense in either of you catching this."

Molly and Sherlock rolled their eyes, and made their way to the cafeteria.

* * *

The two ate their lunch in silence. Well, Molly ate. Sherlock was leaning on the tabletop, his face in his arms. Molly perused her planner, distractedly nibbling on a scone. Eventually, she came upon the doodle Sherlock had left months earlier and grinned.

It was a drawing of a pig in a diaper labeled "Maricroft, 2 weeks."

She reached over and ruffled his dark curls. "Hey, Sherlock. Wake up."

He slowly opened one eye. "What?"  
She turned the planner in his direction. "I like it."

He smiled, sitting up and stretching. "Have I gotten any alerts on my phone?"  
"None that I've heard," Molly replied.

Sherlock scowled. "Damn. I need a case. I hate these bloody January doldrums."  
Molly nodded. "Me too. I have nothing to do, and we have a stupid study hall coming up."  
The raven-haired boy groaned. "Please don't remind me."  
Just then, someone asked in a gentle Irish lilt, "May I sit here?"  
Molly froze, recognizing the voice. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. She slowly turned, locking eyes on the young man. A well-dressed young man with dark hair and very dark eyes. A young man with a simultaneously charming and terrifying grin. A young man who looked exactly like…

"Excuse me," Molly blurted, covering her mouth, fighting back the heave of her stomach. She blasted past Sally and Phillip, barely making it to the bathroom in time.

"Sorry," Sherlock apologized. "Flu's going around. She must've caught it. I'd better go check on her. See you later…" Sherlock hadn't picked up the newcomer's name.

"Rich. Richard Brook."

"Rich. I'm Sherlock. That was Molly. Sorry. Don't mean to ditch you. Here, sit with Sally and Phillip."

* * *

As she coughed through some dry heaves, the tears started. She heard the door open, and someone enter the stall behind her. "Please, go away. I'm fine."  
"Molly," she heard his comforting baritone reply, "I know you're not. Do you know that guy?"

A sob wracked through her body. "Sherlock, James Moriarty is dead. I was at his funeral. For God's sake, I found his dead body. There is no way in hell…" Her words were choked by another sob.

"Rich reminds you of Jim, then?"  
Molly rubbed her eyes. "Reminds me of him? Sherlock, that man is the spitting image of Jim Moriarty. He could be Jim's clone."

Sherlock's eyes widened, and he pulled the petite brunette in his arms. "Molly, I'm so sorry. I didn't know."  
"It's not your fault. How could you have known? It's not like I carry pictures of my dead boyfriend around to show people."  
Sherlock wiped her tears with his thumbs. "No. That's not what I meant. I meant I'm so sorry you had to find him. I can't imagine what that would be like. Irene was…" He paused, swallowing a sob of his own. "Irene was poisoned. There wasn't…" He cleared his throat.

"I am sorry."

She nodded. "C'mon. Let's get out of here."

Sherlock pulled her to her feet, and kissed her forehead.

* * *

For the second time that day, Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper entered the nurse's office arm in arm. Though Myc would dispute, Appledore's nurse, a Miss Bethany Brown, was more than competent. She could tell when a student was actually ill and when they were faking. She also knew when to let a student out of class, sick or not. She recognized that this was one of those moments.

Molly was a terrible mess, tears leaving silvery tracks down her face, her minimal makeup following it, black smears marring her usually pale complexion, which was now red and blotchy. She did not speak except for an occasional hiccup.

Sherlock, though in better physical condition, was obviously as emotionally distraught. Nurse Brown could read it in the stormy grey orbs currently holding back a waterfall of tears.

The raven haired boy stepped forward, coughing suggestively. "Nurse, I think we've come down with the flu."

The Nurse, who knew both Holmes boys well, and knew how rare true displays of emotion in them were, looked upon him with compassion. "Of course. It's like wildfire. You couldn't possibly go on with your classes. I'll notify your professors."

Sherlock nodded and gave her a grateful, knowing smile. "Thank you, Nurse Brown." He took Molly's hand. "Let's go back to our rooms."

* * *

"Sherlock, I'm going to get a shower. I'll be okay. I just feel like I need to be clean. I'll be okay."

"Molly, I…"  
She held a finger to his lips. "I promise I'll be fine." Grabbing her toiletries and brushing past him with as much confidence as she could muster, Molly entered the ladies shower room.

She slowly stripped, stepping under the nearly scalding spray. She inhaled deeply trying, vainly, to not think of Jim Moriarty.

* * *

"_Hi, my name's Jim. What's yours?"  
_"_Molly Hooper."_

_He grinned. "I don't want to seem forward, but would you like to go for coffee sometime?"  
She nodded. "I'd like that."_

* * *

"_You look beautiful, Molly. Just like a princess."_

_She blushed. "Thank you."_

_He'd taken her hand, as if they were always meant to fit together._

* * *

"_Molly, you do realize you're dating a freak?"_

_She'd turned to the interrogator, a girl named Gloria. "Jim's not a freak. He's just...different."  
_"_He's a freak. And you are too if you trust him."  
That day, Molly had discovered his hit list. "Who are these people, Jim?"_

"_People that got in my way. Someday, I'll control the world. Everyone will know my name. I decide who lives, and who dies. These will be the first people to go."_

* * *

_He'd shown up to school, weeks after the discovery of the hit list, with a split lip, black eye, and bruised cheek. "It's nothing. They just don't understand."_

_She hugged him. "I understand."_

"_Do you even believe in evil? That I could be the bad guy?"_

_She shook her head. "You could never be the bad guy."_

* * *

By now Molly was shaving her legs, which for her, signified a clean start. Just then, her hand slipped, and she nicked herself. "Bloody thing," she muttered at her razor, looking down to see the blood pooling at her feet. Suddenly, her breathing became labored.

* * *

"_Jim? Jim, are you here," she called. She rounded the corner and gasped in horror. Blood and brains were spattered on the wall. She followed the blood trail to lay eyes on Jim, surrounded by a pool of his own blood, his dead eyes wide, and a half-smile plastered to his face. She screamed. "Jim! No! Please!"_

* * *

The vision of Jim's dead body in her mind morphed, flickering in and out, eventually turning into Sherlock, his raven curls matted with the dark, inky liquid, his eyes glazed over, mouth hanging slightly slack.

Molly suddenly wasn't in control of her body. She heard her voice screaming Sherlock's name, but she didn't remember opening her mouth. She didn't remember her knees giving out, but all of a sudden, she was leaning against the tile of the wall, the spray of water splashing over her body. "Sherlock," she whimpered, just before it went black.

* * *

Sherlock sat in his room, listening to the stream of the shower. It felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest, constricting his lungs so that he could only take short, shallow, unsatisfying breaths.

He was terrified by the amount of fear and pain visible on Molly's features. He was also terrified by the significant pain apparent on his own features. His pain was twofold, as he was relieving some of the pain he'd felt with Irene, and was sharing in Molly's own pain.

He closed his eyes, his tears threatening to flow over his cheeks.

* * *

_She'd turned everybody's head as she walked in the room, including Sherlock's. She sashayed to where he sat. "Hello. I'm Irene Adler."  
Blushing, he'd replied, "Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."_

_That was the beginning. _

* * *

_He'd asked her out not two days later, and she'd accepted. He was so full of joy and delight with his seemingly devoted girlfriend, the words of warning from everyone in the school that she might not be all she seemed floated in one ear and out the other. He wasn't a believer in true love until that moment. She agreed when he asked to take it relatively slowly. It never occurred to him that the reason she didn't need much in the way of physical affection from him was because she was getting it someplace else. The most she took from him was his first kiss. _

* * *

_They'd just returned from a walk in the park and he'd walked her to her room. She'd just turned away to go into her room, when she turned back on her heel. She'd placed her hands on his shoulders, pushing him up against the wall. She slammed her lips down on his. Almost immediately, she forced his mouth open with hers, her tongue sliding inside. He'd been frozen, completely unsure of what to do. She bit his lower lip before pulling away, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Goodnight."_

_He had waved weakly, standing dazed against the wall._

* * *

_That was four months into the relationship. For the next two, such makeout sessions occurred at least once a week, regardless of where they were. In the library. In the auditorium. In either of their dorms. The kisses shared were never particularly affectionate or sweet, but were rather heated and rough. To the trained eye, it was obvious that Irene was not invested in the kisses simply by the nature of the kisses, but to Sherlock, Irene's passion was her display of her love for him. _

* * *

_She had disappeared for about a week six months after they'd begun dating. Sherlock didn't worry too much until one week turned into two. He'd put out a missing persons report, pestering Greg endlessly for news of her. It was Greg who'd delivered the bad news. _

"_Sherlock, we found her."_

"_Where? What was she doing? When can I see her?"  
Greg had swallowed. "I'm so sorry. She's...we don't know who did it…"_

_The raven haired boy's gaze hardened. "She's what? What's happened to her?"  
_"_She's been poisoned. I'm so sorry."_

_He'd demanded to search her room, and Greg's father, who was fond of Sherlock, turned a blind eye. _

_He'd picked up her diary, leafing through the pages, his eyes widening at the number of names, male and female, that were present, and the number of times his name was brought up, specifically in jest. "Sherlock thinks he's so great at deductions, but he's still not realized that he's my cover story, because I can't tell anyone about Sebby."_

_The book fell from his hands, just before he collapsed on the floor, sobs wracking his whole body. _

* * *

He was ripped out of the painful musings by Molly's cry of his name. He bolted out of his room, running into the bathroom. "Molly," he called. He saw her bloody leg hanging out from under the curtain. "Molly!"

The sight of her unconscious form rocked him to the core, and he went into immediate panic mode.

He grabbed her towel from the rack on the wall and threw the curtain open. He draped the towel over her, scooping her up bridal style, and tucking the edges of the towel around her.

He ran to his room, and laid her down on his bed. Then he ran back to the loo and piled her toiletries in his arms, ran back to his room, and laid those on the floor. He shuffled through his desk and found his first aid kit. He wiped off the blood from the cut on Molly's leg, and placed a plaster on it, laying a gentle kiss on the wound.

Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over the unconscious brunette, pushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. "C'mon, Molly. You have to wake up. You can't do this to me. I can't lose you. Please don't." He pulled her torso up, laying his cheek against hers. His tears overflowed, running down her face. "Please, Molly. Wake up."

* * *

A/N: Cliffhanger! Sorry if this chapter made you sad. I'll bring back the fluff soon enough. What will happen to Molly? Who is Richard Brook? Please send me a review or PM! They are like nectar and ambrosia to an author. Love you all! xx


	18. Chapter 17

A/N: I've returned! I'm alive! And here is the rather angsty new chapter. It will get fluffy again soon, but I thought we needed some angst. This is an imperfect fairytale after all. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Molly heard a familiar baritone off in the distance. She knew that voice, but it sounded wrong. Cracked and broken. "Molly...please. I love you. Don't leave me."

Her eyes fluttered open. "Sher...Sherlock?"

He breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Molly!" He smashed his mouth into hers. "Are you alright? What happened?"  
She inhaled deeply. "I...I don't know. I think I cut my leg, and it reminded me of…And I fainted."

He pressed his forehead against hers. "I thought I'd lost you."

She smiled, and then looked down. "Sherlock, I know you're concerned for my life and well-being, but could I perhaps, I don't know, put actual clothing on?"  
Sherlock froze, his face turning bright red. "I'm sorry." He stood up and turned his back.

She snickered. "God, you're adorable." She opened one of his drawers, and pulled out a pair of black gym shorts and a grey t-shirt. She pulled on the knickers she'd brought, and then the shorts and shirt, ignoring the clothing of her own that she'd brought.

"Okay, you can turn around now."

Sherlock turned back, the blush in his cheeks still as vibrant as ever. He narrowed his eyes at her choice of clothes. "Something wrong with your own clothing?"  
It was Molly's turn to blush. "I...they smell like you."

He grinned, and pulled her into his arms, kissing her forehead. "Okay, my turn." He turned her around and pushed her against the wall.

He pulled of his jeans and button down, pulling on a t-shirt and sweatpants. He came up behind Molly and looped his arms around her waist. She turned around in his arms, pulling hers around his neck. Grinning mischievously, he lifted her off her feet, forcing her to maintain balance by locking her ankles behind his back. "Sherlock, what are you doing?"

Sherlock sat down on his bed, keeping Molly on his lap. He pulled her tight to his chest, and kissed her soundly. Molly gasped at the sudden proximity of the two. Sherlock smiled up at her. "Are you sure you're alright?" He knew that she may be cheery

For the first time since regaining consciousness, panic set in, and Molly's breathing became shallower. The image of Sherlock lying dead on the floor fluttered through her mind again.

"Molly, are you mmpph…"  
Molly had pitched forward, slamming her lips into his, and knocking Sherlock back so that she was on top of him. She slid her hands underneath the hem of his shirt, pulling the fabric out of the way of her wandering hands.

Sherlock turned his head to the side in an attempt to halt Molly's kisses. Though he loved Molly very much, he knew that what she was doing wasn't going to sit well with her when this whole mess with Rich blew over. He knew she needed comfort, but _this _wasn't what she really needed. "Molly. _Molly. _Molly, stop."

She pulled away, tears in her eyes, as she realized why Sherlock had stopped her. "I'm sorry. I didn't….I wasn't…" Her voice broke into sobs again.

Sherlock pulled her tight against his chest. "Shh. I know. It's okay. Just breathe."

She inhaled deeply. "I'm sorry. Can I stay with you tonight? I know we're not technically allowed to be in the same room overnight, but…"

He sat up and grinned. "Of course. I'll text John and tell him that he gets a slumber party with Mary."

* * *

John felt his phone vibrate, and casually peered down, seeing that Sherlock had messaged him. He looked about, and opened the message.

CALL ME. NOW. - SH

John excused himself to the loo, so as not to get into trouble with his Calculus professor.

He leaned on the wall and dialed Sherlock's number.

"Hello? Sherlock?"

"John? Yeah. Hey, I need you to stay with Mary tonight."

John's brow furrowed. "Sherlock, I can't just randomly break school policy because you…"

"I need to stay with Molly. She...she needs me."

"Is she okay?"

Sherlock turned to look over his shoulder at his girlfriend. "No. She...well, she's had a fright."  
"How bad?" John knew that both Sherlock and Molly carried emotional scars, and that Sherlock would only make a request such as this if one or more of those scars had been ripped open.

"I need you to contact Myc and have him do some digging on a new student here. Richard Brook. It could be purely coincidental, but the guy's a dead ringer for Molly's former boyfriend, Jim Moriarty. She's pretty shaken up. Passed out in the shower."

"Oh my God," John exclaimed. "Yeah, I can stay with Mary. Give Molly our love."

"I will. Thank you, John." He hung up.

Sherlock turned back to Molly. "The arrangements are made. Is there anything you need from your room?"

Molly shook her head, visibly shaking.

He hurriedly sat next to her, taking her hands in his. "You're trembling, Molly. Tell me what's the matter. It's not just that you saw a guy that reminds you of Jim. There's something else. I can see it in your eyes."

"I don't want you to research Rich. What if...what if he is connected to Jim? What if he's bad news?"

Sherlock cradled her face between his hands. "I won't let him hurt you."

She shook her head. "It's not me I'm worried about. I keep seeing Jim in my head. The way I found him. And then the image flickers, and then it turns to you. And all I see is you, covered in blood, and your beautiful brain splattered on the wall." She sobbed. "Don't you see? I won't risk losing you. Do not ask me to risk that."  
"You won't lose me."  
"How can you be so sure? I need you to promise me something. Promise me that if it gets too dangerous, or your life is in jeopardy, you run the other way, no matter what. Promise me."

Sherlock nodded. "I promise."

"Thank you." She breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

The next two weeks moved on without event. Greg got over his flu, but was reluctant to let Mycroft leave. Myc's digging had turned nothing questionable up about Richard Brook. Molly, in time, learned to deal with Rich's presence. Luckily for her, Sherlock was always present for every time she had to encounter Rich.

* * *

Sherlock wrapped an arm around Molly one Saturday. "How are you doing, love?"  
She smiled. "Better. I had a whole conversation with him without panicking, so I'd say that's some success."

"What did you talk about?"

Molly bit her lip. "He needs some help after school with his Chemistry project, and asked if I would be willing to help him."

"Are you going?"

"I don't see any reason why I shouldn't. Rich seems fairly harmless. It seemed like he genuinely needs my help."

"Do you want me to come along?"  
Molly shook her head. "Nah. I should be okay. Here," she said, holding out a slip of paper. "Rich gave me his number and told me to give it to you so you could have some peace of mind."

"I love you," Sherlock murmured, kissing her tenderly.

Molly smiled, carding her fingers through his hair. "I love you, too. I'll see you later."

* * *

When Molly entered the library, it was about seven o'clock in the evening. Oddly, the library was empty. Usually, there were at least four or five students milling about, researching or reading. Tonight, even the librarian was nowhere to be found.

Molly gazed around until she spotted Rich at a solitary table in the back of the library. She slowly approached and asked, "So, Rich. How can I help you?"

He looked up and grinned. "Hey, thanks for coming. I need some help understanding the differences between the types of molecular bonds. I just don't get them."  
Molly bit her lip. "Sherlock would've been a better choice. He's better at chemistry than I."

Rich chuckled. "I don't think he likes me."

Molly smiled. 'Well, I don't know about that." She surveyed the table, and noticed it was empty. "Where's your stuff?"  
Rich looked at her sheepishly. "I...I lost my book."

"Well," she said, "I'm sure they have a copy of the text somewhere in the stacks." She walked toward the shelves.

Suddenly, she felt a pinprick in the side of her neck, and then it all went black.

* * *

"Molly? Where are you? - SH"

"Hey, I know you're okay, but where are you? - SH"

"Molly? - SH"

"Molly? Please, I'm starting to worry? - SH"

"If you don't text soon, I'll call 999. - SH"

Sherlock raked a hand through his hair, and sent out another text.

"Myc, I need your help. -SH"

* * *

"Myc, it's been three hours. I'm worried."

The older boy laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'm sure she's fine, but I'll make an inquiry. We should notify Headmaster Magnussen."

"No. He'll just gum it up."

Myc rolled his eyes. "Fine, but if she's not turned up by Monday morning, I will have to tell him. In the meantime, try not to panic."

Sherlock glowered. "Try not to panic. Right. Need I remind you what happened the last time my girlfriend went missing for any extended period of time."

Mycroft, in a move that was quite uncharacteristic, pulled his younger brother into his arms, rubbing the area between Sherlock's shoulder blades in a soothing manner. "I know. I'm worried as well. We _will_ find her."

Molly woke up to find her muscles aching and stiff.

She blearily opened her eyes, not completely sure of her surroundings. She moved to stretch her arms, but found them immobile.

Molly's eyes shot wide and she craned her neck around to see her wrists bound behind her. All of a sudden, her pulse spiked, and her breathing became shallow and erratic.

As she looked around her, she realised she was bound hand and foot to a wooden chair in the tower of the Academy.

"Hello," she called softly. "Please? Help."  
Just then, Rich stepped out of the darkness. "Hello, Molly Hooper."

She swallowed. "Rich, please tell me what's going on here."

He knelt down, his expression almost apologetic, except for the blatantly murderous glint in his eyes. "Oh, Molly. If you were smart you would've never associated with him."

She squirmed. "With whom?"  
"I always win. For someone who claimed to not have a heart, it's proving simple to burn it out."

Tears began to stream down Molly's face. "Who doesn't have a heart?"  
Rich tapped the end of her nose. "That's a story for another day. Though if I'm right, and I usually am, you'll find out soon enough." He stood and backed away.

"Wait, no! Please don't leave me alone!"

* * *

On Sunday, Sherlock sat rummaging through Molly's things, hoping to find something that might provide a clue as to her whereabouts. Mary and John, who were both as worried as Sherlock, were canvassing the area around the Academy, searching for Molly.

Just when Sherlock was about to give up, a piece of stationery fell out of her Anatomy book.

He opened it, reading a messy scrawl.

_Hello, Sexy!_

_I gave you my number. I thought you might call. Don't you miss Molly? Did you really think I'd let you give up? You were so close two years ago. Why did you give up? Oh yes. Sentiment. Foolish really. You were too attached to Irene, and decided that your heart died with her. Funny though, because, like I told your darling Molly, it's proving rather simple to burn yours. The game is still on, Sherlock Holmes. Come to the tower if you want to play._

_Love always,_

_The Spider_

Sherlock crumpled the note in his hand. He pulled out his phone. "Myc, it's the Spider. I don't know how."

"Are you sure?"  
"I'm sure, and this time I won't let him get away."  
"And how do you plan on doing that?"

A determined look appeared on Sherlock's face. "He's slipped up. He's gone after the one person who matters the most to me in the whole world. I will not lose Molly Hooper."

"What do you need?"

* * *

Sherlock was stuffing the gun his brother had provided into his waistband when John returned. Noting the bloodthirsty look his roommate's face, he asked, "Sherlock, what's the matter?"

"John, if I asked you to take Mary out and not come back till midnight, would you do it. You stay away from the Academy, and do not, under any circumstances, follow me. Would you do it?"  
"If it's about Molly, then hell no. If you need my help, then I'll be there."

Sherlock's chest heaved, and he pulled his friend into his arms. "You're my best friend. Do not ask me to risk you too. I know what I'm doing. Please trust me."

John nodded. "I don't see any point in arguing with you." He clasped Sherlock's hand in his. "Don't do anything stupid." He turned on his heel, stopped, and turned back. "Oh, and this is for good luck, from Mary. She guessed you'd end up doing something like this." John leaned forward and firmly planted a kiss on Sherlock's lips, making a face of disgust when he pulled away. Turning away, he muttered, "I can't believe I just kissed another bloke."

Sherlock grinned. "Tell Mary thanks."

"Good luck."

* * *

A/N: Cliffhanger! I do hope you are still enjoying this little fic. If so, let me know in a review or a PM! Lots of love! xx


	19. Chapter 18

**A/N: I'm back! I just want to say a big thank you to all of my readers who have reviewed or PMed me! It's so encouraging to hear that you are enjoying this! Again, this chapter has a bit more angst. I'm feeling that this is going to be a pattern for the next couple chapters, but the fluff will return. Enjoy, my lovelies! xx**

* * *

A hand against her cheek woke Molly again. She opened her eyes, whimpering, her stiff neck cracking as she turned it toward the source of the contact. When she saw Rich's face, she flinched away as much as her bonds would allow.

"No. No. No. No. Shh. You're alright."

"Get away from me," she spat.

"Aw," he tutted. "You don't want to be upsetting me. I'll be the last face you see before you die, and you'll want my expression to be pleasant."

Molly writhed against the ropes binding her. "Die? What did I ever do to you? Freak out because you happen to be an exact replica of a guy I dated that blew his brains out."

He tapped the end of her nose and chuckled. "Didn't Sherlock ever tell you about Irene?"

"Of course."

"Didn't you find it odd that his girlfriend was randomly poisoned and your boyfriend randomly committed suicide? Doesn't he tell you anything?"  
"The world is full of coincidence. And I trust him. If he chooses not to tell me something, then I trust him to have a good reason." Molly jutted her chin out ever so slightly, as if trying to prove that she wasn't afraid.

He stood and backed into the shadow. "That's a mistake. Trusting him."

"Then why did you trust me to show up," Molly heard a familiar voice, a wonderfully familiar and soothing baritone, ask.

"Because, Sherlock, we both love a good game. Of course, your precious little fly walked into my parlour far too easily."

"What," Molly asked.

""Will you walk into my parlour,' said the Spider to the Fly,'" Rich quoted.

Sherlock's hands curled into fists. "Leave her out of this."

Rich laughed and rolled his eyes. "I didn't involve her. She's been involved since the beginning. I'm surprised at you, Sherlock. Haven't you figured it out yet?"

Molly turned pleading eyes to Sherlock. "What does he mean? How have I been involved from the beginning?"

"I think that Rich Brook is Jim Moriarty," Sherlock deadpanned.

Molly gasped. "No. Why does that...why would you do that to me?"

"For someone so intelligent, you really are a doofus, Holmes. I am not Jim Moriarty. I'm his twin brother, James Moriarty." The boy walked from out of the shadows.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "Are you absolutely mad?"  
"No. Well, yes," the madman agreed. "But we are both James Moriarty. Legally changed our names, so we could be doppelgangers. At least we used to be. Till someone put a gun in my brother's mouth."

Molly was incredulous. "He committed suicide! He put the damn gun in his own mouth. Sherlock and I can't possibly be involved!"

The Irishman chuckled. "Haven't you any guess? Sherlock, you were after the Spider and his web. You were so close. You were right on Seb's heels, and then Irene practically handed us to you on a silver platter. You were just too stupid and sentimental to realize."  
Sherlock's eyes grew wide, and his jaw dropped. He suddenly realized where he and Molly fit into all of this. As tears formed in his eyes, he turned his gaze to Molly. "I'm so sorry, Molly. I'm an idiot."

The Spider snorted. "You said it."

Sherlock glared at him. "Oh shut up."

Tears streamed freely down the petite brunette's face. "Please tell me Sherlock. What's going on?"

"Yes, Sherlock," James sang, "Tell us what's going on."

The raven-haired boy caught sight of the Spiders gun and whipped his own out. "Sherlock, what are you doing," Molly screamed.

"I'm protecting you."

James began to cackle, pulling out his weapon. "Protecting her? From your troubled past? From the fact that you aren't a hero? That you were too thick to even save your precious Irene? From the fact that that same stupidity is going to get your precious Molly killed?"

Molly gasped, and Sherlock took slow steps in her direction. "Don't listen to him, Molly. He's just trying to mess with your head."

"You've messed with her head," James exclaimed. "Making yourself seem the victim, instead of the murderer."

"Sherlock, what is he talking about?"  
James chuckled. "If it gives you some peace of mind, Sherlock technically never murdered anyone. He never pulled the trigger. It's still his fault though that my brother's dead. And still, I need him just as much as he needs me. The thrill of the chase."

Sherlock laughed. "You really are mad."  
"Sherlock, please tell me what's going on," Molly sobbed.

"Yes," James encouraged, "tell her." He moved the gun so that it pointed at Molly's forehead. "Or I shoot her."

"Not if I shoot you first."

"No, Sherlock don't. I'm not worth it," Molly yelled.

Sherlock felt his grip on the firearm waver, and he brought his other arm up, stabilizing his aim. His eyes darted between Molly and James.

"Face it, Sherlock," James said gleefully. "You're no hero. You're just like me, except that you're boring and ordinary. You've let sentiment get in the way. You talk big, but you're on the side of the angels. You couldn't shoot me anymore than you could shoot her."

Sherlock's blood boiled, and he let out a sound akin to a snarl. "You're right. I am you. Prepared to do anything, prepared to burn, prepared to do what ordinary people won't. You want me to shake hands with you in hell? I shall not disappoint you. I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them."

James rolled his eyes and cocked the gun, moving the bullet into the barrel. "Last chance, Sherlock."

The raven-haired boy raised an eyebrow. "Hit me with your best shot."

At the same moment that James pulled the trigger, Sherlock stepped in front of Molly.

* * *

Molly was petrified as the two faced off; one, the person she loved most in this world, the other, the twin brother of the person she used to love.

What did James mean? How in the hell was she involved in...whatever this was? Also, how was Sherlock involved?

None of this made any sense.

Before Molly could even begin to sort out the bits of information she'd been provided with, she was staring down the barrel of a gun.

She couldn't believe it though. She knew that Sherlock loved her; he'd told her that enough times. However, she'd never imagined that he'd be willing to kill for her.

Granted, this was the first time that they'd been involved in a life or death situation.

As an aspiring pathologist, Molly was well aware of the mortality of life. Still, it was difficult to deal with the fact that any one of the three people in this room, including the one pointing a gun at her head, might die tonight.

Molly knew it was wrong of her, but she would be very happy to see James dead, just not by Sherlock's hand. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, so that she wouldn't have to see anyone die, but she knew better. She needed to be alert, aware. She would turn her gaze to Sherlock, so that he would be the last thing she saw.

She saw Sherlock step in front of her just before she heard someone's gun go off.

* * *

Outwardly, Sherlock was practically unfazed by the bullet's intrusion into his thoracic cavity. He looked down momentarily, noting that he probably had a few broken ribs, and a punctured lung that would likely collapse. He gingerly placed a hand against the area that was bleeding.

On the inside, Sherlock was screaming. He'd endured a lot of pain after his bouts with addictions, but nothing quite so bad as the pain he was in now.

"Sherlock," he heard Molly telling him, "You need to fall back. The bullet is still inside you, and it's like a cork in a bottle. On your back, the bleeding will slow, and you'll have a better chance."

Her voice sounded to him as though there were great wads of cotton in his ears, but he heard her advice, and let gravity carry him backwards.

* * *

"Sherlock," Molly cried. "James, what have you done? You've killed him!"

James knelt down and whispered in Sherlock's ear. "Not exactly what I wanted, but now we're even. Thank you, Sherlock." He stepped over the body, and cut Molly loose. "Sorry, love. It won't be long for him now."

If James Moriarty was a sentimental man, he could've predicted Molly Hooper's next move. Unfortunately for him, Molly Hooper was a sentimental person. A sentimental person whose roommate was trained in all forms of self-defense. Molly had learned a lot from Mary.

James Moriarty underestimated Molly Hooper. Instead of unbinding a mousy girl who wouldn't hurt a fly, he had unbound an angry woman now educated in the art of kicking his ass.

Though her limbs were stiff from being tied up so long, Molly's rage made her strong, and so when James turned his back, she swung her leg up, kicking him squarely in the back of the head, knocking him on his face.

Moaning, James felt around on the floor, Molly's boot to the back of his head making him momentarily blind. Using that to her advantage, Molly leaned down, grabbed James by the shirtfront, and punched him in the nose, and he slammed into the wall, his head cracking on the wall, knocking him unconscious.

She moved over to Sherlock's side. She felt around in his pockets for his phone. She sent a mass text to every contact of his that was currently in the Academy begging for help.

With that done, Molly pulled Sherlock's head into her lap. She brushed a few errant curls from his face. "You stay with me, Sherlock Holmes. You hear? You don't leave me. You stay here."

Her voice cracked as she realized that the terrifying image of Sherlock's bloody, broken body in place of Jim's was coming true, and it was her fault.

Within two minutes, Mycroft, Greg, John and Mary were there at the tower, followed by Myc's best people.

Greg leaned down and wrapped his arms around Molly. "C'mon. He'll be alright. We need to get him out of here. C'mon."

Still, Molly could not pull herself from Sherlock's limp form. "Greg, he needs me. I can't leave him."

Greg tried to pull Molly away from Sherlock, but she shrugged his hands away. "I'm not leaving him."

Greg pulled on Molly's shoulders, pulling her to her feet, and turning her around in his arms. "Molly, if he's going to live, he needs surgery, and the faster that you let him go, the faster the docs can save him."  
Molly sobbed, and dropped her head on Greg's shoulder. "Shh, Molly," Greg murmured. He rubbed the area between her scapulas, his eyes locked on his dying friend.

* * *

When they arrived at the hospital, the nurses had insisted on checking Molly's health. They had bandaged her wrists where the ropes had chafed them, and iced her knuckles, bruised from punching James in the face.

They'd draped a shock blanket over her shoulders, and left her. She didn't even have her cell on her, so she couldn't call for John, Mary, Greg or Myc to come and tell her how Sherlock was doing, or what floor he was on.

Finally, a kind-looking nurse walked by, and Molly called out to him. "Nurse?"

The man turned on his heel. "Miss, are you alright? Have you been treated?"

She nodded. "Yes. I was wondering if you knew anything about a patient that came at the same time as me?"  
"Do you know his name?"  
"Sherlock Holmes. He's my boyfriend. He got shot protecting me."

The man's eyes filled with understanding. "You're the girl with the rope burns and bloody knuckles. The guy you sucker punched still doesn't have his vision completely back."

Molly looked at her hands in her lap sheepishly. "He'd just shot Sherlock."  
The man looked around, and grinned at Molly. "Tell you what. I'll be right back." The man went and spoke to the receptionist at the counter, and then returned to Molly, dragging a wheelchair. "Sherlock just came out of surgery, and he's doing fine. He's doped up on morphine, so he'll be unconscious for a while. I just got permission to take you down to him. My superiors said you could sit with him until he wakes up."

Molly smiled for the first time in two days. "Thank you."

The nurse smiled back. "Don't mention it."

She hopped into the wheelchair, and the nurse wheeled it into the elevator.

"You know, I didn't catch your name," Molly commented.

"Rory. Rory Williams. And yours?"  
Molly chuckled. "Molly Hooper."

"Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise."  
The lift stopped and Rory wheeled Molly into the waiting area where Greg, Myc, John and Mary all sat. The blonde girl was the first to jump up, leaning down to embrace Molly. "Are you alright?"

Molly nodded. "I think so. How is he?"

"He's fine."

Molly gave her roommate a small smile, and then turned to Rory. "Thank you so much, Rory."

"I'm here to help, Molly. Don't mention it."

Molly stood, and Rory took the wheelchair with him. Slowly, Molly walked to Sherlock's room, her hand shaking ever so slightly as she reached for the doorknob.

Molly had thought that seeing Sherlock lying on the floor of the tower, his blood spilling down his shirtfront was a bad enough scene. Seeing him hooked up to all those wires and tubes was even worse. It made him look like a victim, weak and vulnerable; those three words, in Molly's opinion, should never be applied to Sherlock Holmes.

She fought the tears forming in her eyes, and dragged a chair to his bedside. Making sure she didn't disturb any of the tubes and wires attached to him, she laced her bruised fingers with his.

"When you wake up, Sherlock," she murmured, "I'm going to tell you that you are a stupid plonker for nearly getting yourself killed and leaving me without you. I'm going to scream and shout and cry, and possibly slap you. And when I'm done throwing a tantrum, I'm going to tell you just how much I love you. So you better wake up soon, because the longer you wait, the more time my tantrum has to stew." She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Je t'aime."

* * *

**A/N: Did you enjoy it? If you are confused a bit by the face-off with the Spider, that was my intention. I decided that you all should be a lost as Molly. Since most of the stuff with the Spider happened before this fic, it would make sense that neither James nor Sherlock would have to flesh out all the details. Also, if James seems a little...scatterbrained...I did that on purpose. The way I wrote the face-off was to emphasize the point that none of this makes any sense to Molly. It will be explained in future chapters. Promise. Anyway, if you enjoyed this chapter, or have a constructive criticism for me, leave me a PM or a review! Je t'aime, lovelies! xxx**


	20. Chapter 19

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. I know it's been a while since I posted, but it's back! I also realized that I am a terrible author, neglecting all of my readers. So: Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, PMed me, followed, and favorited. Also, a special thanks to TheHeadphoneGirl and the anonymous reviewer whose suggestions inspired the entire Spider plot line. All of you have been so very kind to me! Love you all! xx**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. I think I may have forgotten to mention that the last couple chapters. All rights go to BBC, Moffat, Gatiss, and Sir ACD.**

* * *

A heavy sort of darkness had surrounded Sherlock. It had felt like someone had tied weights to his limbs and thrown him into the Thames, except that he could still breathe.

After what seemed like a long while, the darkness seemed to ebb, and was replaced by a white light. And a really annoying beeping sound.

Damn.

He had always supposed that he would die young. He was Sherlock Holmes, after all, and he planned to make a career of chasing criminals, and someone was bound to want him dead sooner or later.

Still, shouldn't he have succumbed to the white light already? Not that he wanted to die. He had so much to live for. No. Wait. That sounded really end of days and pathetic. Well, he supposed that John, Mary, Greg, Myc, and Molly would prefer that he lived.

Molly. Oh, God. Molly. Oh, she must be terrified.

For the first time since he'd been shot, Sherlock's lips parted, and he heard his voice whisper her name. Suddenly he realized that the white light was a combination of white hospital walls and the fluorescent lights, and that the beeping sound was the monitors hooked up to him.

His eyes wheeled around until he spotted her.

Molly.

* * *

Molly was never more glad to hear Sherlock's voice than when he whispered her name there in the hospital.

She reached over and grabbed his hand. "Sherlock?"

He smiled weakly. "Hi." His voice was still hoarse.

Her other hand reached out to caress his face, and she leaned close as if to kiss him, a loving smile on her face. When she was about three inches away, the smile dropped, and the hand on his face slapped him hard. She pulled away, turning her face to the side, biting her lip, and trying not to cry.

"Ow," Sherlock cried. "That hurt! What was that for?"  
"How could you do that to me? I nearly lost you!"

Sherlock sighed. "I'm sorry, Molly. I had to save you. I never thought that my past would catch up. I never thought I would put you in danger."

Molly sobbed. "The hell with my safety. You nearly died. I don't know what I would've done if I'd lost you."

Sherlock reached out and took her hand. "I am sorry." He noticed the bruising on her knuckles. "What happened here?"

Molly blushed. "I may have beat the tar out of James."

Sherlock grinned. "Did Mary impart some of her ninja assassin skills on you?"

"Maybe." She looked up, her cheeks flaming crimson. "He may have temporarily lost his vision."

His eyes grew wide. "You're kidding, right?"

Molly shook her head.

Sherlock burst out laughing. "Remind me to never piss you off."

She laughed. "Don't ever piss me off. There, you're reminded."

He let go of her hand and reached up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. "My Molly."

"My Sherlock." She leaned down and gently pressed a kiss to his lips, before she nestled her head under his chin.

They laid like that for a moment, and then Molly cleared her throat. "Sherlock, you never did tell me what was going on."

"It doesn't matter now. All that matters is that you're safe, and I have you right here." He pressed a kiss to her forehead for emphasis.

Molly sat up. "It matters to me. I want to know. Please."

Sherlock's eyes grew cold. "Molly, I'd rather not dredge up all that. You're safe, and I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

She returned the icy glare. "Do you not trust me? Is that it?"

"Molly, don't be ridiculous. Of course I trust you."

"Then why won't you tell me?"

Sherlock stared at the ceiling, giving Molly no answer.

"Your lack of answer is very reassuring," Molly spat sarcastically.

The raven-haired boy's gaze snapped to her, his eyes blazing. "I'm sorry that my life isn't as innocent as yours. You're not my wife. You're not entitled to know everything. I have some secrets that I have _the right _to keep private."

Molly was incensed. "You lost that right when I got kidnapped. Since I'm only your girlfriend, I get that you don't have to tell me everything, but we are in a relationship. There has to be an element of trust. Even if you don't tell me, I have a right to know why you _won't_ tell me."

Sherlock set his jaw. "No, you don't."

Molly stood. "If that's how you feel. I don't have time for your theatrics, Sherlock. When you get over yourself, then we'll talk. Until then, you leave me be." She stalked out of the room.

* * *

John walked into his best friend's room. "Hey, what happened? I just saw Molly storm out of here?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Miss Hooper insisted that she had every right to know why I wouldn't tell her about my past, and I did not agree. Then she informed me that I was full of myself, and that we would discontinue all further interactions until such time as I 'get over myself.' She's one to talk."

John narrowed his eyes. "Sherlock," he scolded.

"What?"

"Really? You're not going to explain to Molly why she was kidnapped, which, by the way, would probably be beneficial to her mental health in the long run, because you're afraid that you'll have to explain that you aren't quite the knight in shining armor she believes you to be?"  
Sherlock's eyes blazed fire. "How do you explain to the person you love that you were a junkie?"

John sat on the edge of his friend's bed. "Simply. Tell her that you became depressed after Irene, and handled it badly. You don't have to tell her the exact drugs you were using, or that you almost flunked out, but let her know that you used, but you're clean now. And above all, tell her that you love her."

"Molly deserves better than that. Now, please give my regards to everyone. I wish to be left in peace."

John scoffed and stood. "I thought perhaps Molly had managed to thaw your frozen heart. Seems I was wrong. You still push people away. Well, fine. You can rot in here, alone." The sandy-haired boy stormed out.

* * *

Sherlock was released from the hospital three days later. The doctors wanted to keep him much longer, but after much harassing of the nursing staff, and some pulled strings by Mycroft, Sherlock was soon back in the halls of Appledore Academy, though his health was constantly monitored by the faithful Bethany Brown now.

After classes, Sherlock was made to visit Nurse Brown's office so that she could give him a general checkup.

"Afternoon, Nurse Brown," Sherlock muttered, about a week and a half after the shooting.

She looked up from the files scattered across her desk. "Good afternoon, Sherlock."

The raven-haired boy rolled his eyes. "Look can we just get this over with? I have some things I actually have to do."

"Yes, sir," she retorted.

After Nurse Brown ensured that Sherlock was still in good health, she asked, "Sherlock, how is Molly taking all this?"  
"I haven't spoken to her since I woke up in the hospital."

Nurse Brown's eyes widened. "Why ever not?"

The look on Sherlock's face must've said it all, because Nurse Brown suddenly gave an understanding nod. "You had a fight."

Sherlock laughed bitterly. "Is it that obvious?"

Nurse Brown sat on the edge of one of the beds, patting the space next to her. Sherlock sat next to her. "I know that look. This is about your addictions, isn't it?"  
"Molly Hooper believes in fairytales. She believes I'm some sort of Prince Charming, come to carry her away. I'm not who she thinks I am. Prince Charming wasn't ever addicted to morphine." He dropped his face into his hands, as if concealing his face would conceal the fact that he, Sherlock Holmes, was crying.

Nurse Brown pondered on the information she'd been provided with, information that went against everything she knew; Sherlock Holmes had had some sort of falling out with his _girlfriend_, because _he_ felt he was inadequate, and now was _crying._ Oh, dear Lord. What was she going to do?

Bethany Brown did what she did every time her younger brother had been upset when they were younger. She put an arm around Sherlock's shoulders, pulling him into her side. "Oh, Sherlock, I'm so sorry."

Sherlock, who was not used to people besides his closest friends showing him any affection, let his tears flow over, and, for the first time since he was a child, sobbed into someone's shoulder.

Nurse Brown gently rubbed his shoulders, murmuring soothing words after particularly violent sobs.

When Sherlock's tears finally subsided, Nurse Brown tipped his face up to look at her. "Do you feel better?"

He nodded. "_Why_ do I feel better?"  
Nurse Brown smiled. "Sometimes everyone needs a good cry to let out all their bottled emotions. Take it from a woman who's cried into a tub of ice cream one too many times. Crying is highly therapeutic."

Sherlock laughed for the first time in a week and a half. "Thank you. Any other great advice for me?"  
Bethany Brown grinned. "Do you want to make this right?"  
Sherlock nodded emphatically. "Of course I do."  
"Do you love Molly?"

"More than anything in the world."

Bethany Brown smiled. "Tell her that. Walk up to her door, and demand to see her. Don't let her go until you tell her that you love her. That's the first step."

He threw his arms around the petite nurse, squeezing her in a quick hug. "Thank you, Bethany Brown. You are a wonderful woman. If you ever need anything, a shoulder to cry on, someone to eat ice cream with, an ex-boyfriend assassinated, you know where to find me."

His offer drew a laugh out of the nurse. "Thank you, Sherlock Holmes. I'll remember that."

* * *

Molly laid on her stomach, once again crying into her pillow. Having to sit with Sherlock in Anatomy was torture. She wasn't about to ask to move to a different seat, causing more drama than she was ready to handle right now. Still, though Sherlock was out of her line of sight, she could feel his presence next to her.

It was worse when she was forced to do an activity with him. She was torn between wanting to punch his nose, which would knock his beautifully angled face out of alignment, and wanting to snog him senseless. Instead, she ignored him altogether, sure that whatever outburst she decided upon would be disastrous.

* * *

Mary had given up trying to get through to Molly four days ago. It was obvious that it wasn't doing any good. The blonde stood, gathering her jacket and bag. "Molly, it's Friday night. John and I are going out. Come with us. It's not healthy, moping about like this."

Molly raised her head, her face beet red, and her eyes bloodshot. "I don't want to go. I don't want to do anything ever again."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Fine. Be that way. You know, you're letting Sherlock destroy every relationship you're involved in." The blonde walked out. "I'll see you later."

Molly let her head slam back into the pillow, when something cold touched her face. She lifted her head to see the necklace Sherlock had given her at Christmas.

She rolled over and sat up, dangling the pendant in front of her face. She thought back to the night he'd given it to her. The first of many kisses shared between the two. Her first kiss. She ran her thumb over the inscription on the back. _Je t'aime._

She felt a tightening in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes fell closed, and she pressed the little heart to her lips, as her only remaining shred of Sherlock.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

* * *

Sherlock worried his lower lip, hoping Molly would hear him out. Her door creaked open, and he gave her a half smile. "Hi, Molly."

"Oh, are we doing conversation today," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Molly, please listen to me."

She snorted. "I think I heard enough at the hospital." She moved to close the door.

Sherlock shoved his foot in the doorjamb. "Molly, we need to talk."

"I have nothing left to say to you." She turned away, trying once again to shut the door. Sherlock shoved his way through, letting the door slam behind him. Molly whirled around. "Get out. I didn't invite you in. I…" She trailed off, halfway between turned on and terrified. Sherlock's eyes were dark, and his expression intense. Passionate. Halfway between seductive and savage.

He took her face between his hands, and slammed his lips down on hers.

Well.

Molly certainly wasn't expecting that.

She also wasn't expecting her own reaction. Suddenly, Molly's fingers were tangled in his raven curls, and she was kissing him back, pouring her heart and soul into it.

When he finally pulled away, Molly stared up at him, her breathing heavy and shaky.

"Molly, I love you," he finally said, after a long pause.

She smiled, and buried her face in his chest. "I know. I love you too."

He smiled down at her, and then his expression grew serious. "Molly, are you sure you want me to tell you everything? It's no fairytale. It doesn't have a happy ending."

She nodded. "I want to know."

Sherlock took a deep breath and sat her down on the bed. "Okay, here goes. Two years ago, the biggest theft ring in the country was the Web. It was headed by someone professionally known as the Spider. No one knew anything about the Spider or the Web past their names and that they were the best. Mycroft's people were investigating, and it was determined that, however unbelievable, the Spider, and likely his web, were composed of teenagers. That's where I came in. I was enlisted to try and infiltrate the Web by getting close to someone on the inside."  
"Irene," Molly breathed.

Sherlock nodded, and then continued. "It was supposed to be our way in. I wasn't supposed to fall in love with her. It nearly ruined the operation, save for the Spider's mania. I suspect Irene Adler was an alias. She and her brother, Sebastian Moran, were part of the ring, along with James Moriarty, the one you dated. The Spider, and ringleader, was the James Moriarty that kidnapped you."

"I'm still not sure how I fit into this."

"I'm getting to that. Apparently, Irene was aware of the fact that I was supposed to be using her for information, and didn't care. She liked using me as her plaything. It appears that the Spider decided she was too close for comfort. He had her killed. Moran got pissed that his sister was killed, and confronted the Spider about it. The Spider deemed Moran a threat to security, and had him killed as well. Now, this is where it gets interesting, and where you are probably going to get hurt."  
Molly nodded. "I can handle it."  
"The man you dated was actually in love with Sebastian Moran."  
Molly felt a pang in her heart, and swallowed the lump in her throat. "Why was he dating me then?"

Sherlock took her hand. "He was using you as a cover. He didn't want his brother to know he was gay, and that he and Moran were together. When Moran was killed, it turned into a bloody civil war, brother against brother. The Spider began feeding his brother drugs, causing a psychotic break, and Jim's eventual suicide."

Tears were falling down Molly's face. "And?"

"The Spider is a psychopath. He decided that I was to blame for his brother's death, since I dated Irene, and kidnapping you was the best way to get revenge."

Molly began to shake, and Sherlock pulled her into his arms, assuming her emotions were overwhelming her. "I'm sorry. I know it's hard, but…" He stopped when he realized that instead of sobbing, she was laughing. "What the hell is so funny?"  
"I'm sorry. _That's _what you couldn't tell me? Sherlock Holmes, I was kidnapped, and I watched you get shot. I think I can just about handle anything now."

"Molly, there's more to it."

She raised a brow. "Well?"  
He swallowed and exhaled. "I didn't handle Irene's death well. If I had, I could've prevented your kidnap and my injury."

Molly was bemused. "What, you took time to mourn and thus Mycroft's men lost their best man?"

"Molly, I…" He decided to show her instead of tell her. He rolled up his shirt sleeve, and held his arm out for Molly to inspect.

Her brow furrowed as she saw the track marks dotting the inside of his elbow. She traced her fingers over them, and quietly asked, "Morphine?"

He nodded his head. "Heroin, too. And cocaine. But I haven't used in over a year. I'm clean."

"Do you still smoke?"

"Not since I met you."

Molly flashed her brown eyes up to meet his. "Is this what you were hiding?"

"I thought that if you knew you were dating a former junkie, you might think I wasn't good enough for you, and dump me."

She brushed an errant curl from his forehead. "You stupid, stupid man. I will always love you, no matter what. You could take up drugs again tomorrow, you could start dyeing your hair pink, you could tell me you're a time-travelling, bi-cardial alien, and it wouldn't matter. I love you."

Sherlock smiled, and leaned forward, capturing her lips with his. "I love you, too."

* * *

**A/N: Did you enjoy it? If you did, let me know by sending a review or PM. Also, I am on Tumblr, if you want to follow me. I've changed my ****screen name there, so now my Tumblr name is "thewriterinallofus". I hope to update soon. Love! xx**


	21. Notice of Hiatus

**Hey, lovelies! **

**I am officially putting this fic on hiatus. With school starting up again, I will need to focus on my studies, and it may be a while before I post again, if I even update this fic. I didn't receive much feedback for the last chapter, so I can only imagine that perhaps it wasn't well received. The lack of feedback put a bit of a damper on my literary muse. Apologies if you were enjoying this fic. **

**Much love,**

**TheWriterInAllOfUs**


End file.
